^^pE AKD DEEOs 



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OF 5 



Dr. John McGkegor 



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LIFE AND DEEDS 



OF 



Dr. JOHN McGregor, 



INCLUDING SCENES OF HIS CHILDHOOD, ALSO SCENES 
ON THE BATTLE FIELD OF BULL RUN, AT THE PRIS- 
ONS IN RICHMOND, CHARLESTON, CASTLE PINCKNEY, 
COLUMBIA, SALISBURY, ON THE BANKS OF THE JAMES 
RIVER, HIS ESCAPE, HIS RETURN HOME, THE TRAGI- 
CAL SCENE ON DYER ST., AND THE HEART-RENDING 
SCENE AT THE CITY HOTEL IN PROVIDENCE, WHERE 
HIS EVENTFUL LIFE TERMINATED. 



BY 



JEKEMIAH S. McGEEGOE. 



FOSTER : 

PKKSS OF FRY BROTHERS, 

1880. 



Eh'?'? 



Entered according- to act of Congress, in the year 1880, ])y 

JEREMIAH s. McGregor, 

in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



f COPY. 



PREFACE 



The life of a public man is a leaf of History. 
It is a leaf also in which minute facts, and 
particular causes, and personal transactions, 
are brought out in such strong relief as to 
have the effect of a picture taken from the 
Great World, but viewed as we view small 
portions of the firmament through telescopic 
glasses. Such lives are essential elements in 
the great picture of Humanity in action. We 
must see the heads of the actors, as well as the 
great moral of the actions, which together com- 
pose the drama of human society. 

The life of Dr. John McGregoi' is such an 
element in the history of our last war. It 
cannot be separated from the great struggle 



4 PKEFACE. 

with the South. Men may take what view 
they please of him, or the acts in which he 
was engaged; but some view they must take. 
Many of his acts were no trifling parts, nor 
performed in an unimportant period, of Amer- 
ican progress. They were brilliant points on 
the battle field of Bull Run. They moved on 
from that bloody field to those loathsome 
Southern prisons. They made part in the 
terrible scenes at Richmond, Charleston, Cas- 
tle Pinckney, Salisbury, and on the banks of 
the James River, terminating in a tragical and 
heart-rending scene on Dyer Street, and at the 
City Hotel, in the city of Providence. In all 
these scenes, whether of war or peace, the acts 
of John McGregor cannot be separated from 
History. My duty is to place the lineaments 
of a public character on i-ecord, where they 
may be seen by all observers, and left, undis- 
figured, to the final judgment of posterity. 
This duty the writer has undertaken to 
perform with strict fidelity. The records of 



PREFACE. 5 

the country, happily, furnish the foundation for 
most of his statements; the testimony of emi- 
nent and honorable gentlemen, themselves 
actors in some of the scenes described, fur- 
nishes other materials; and, finally, the papers 
and narratives of private persons make up an 
aggregate of facts and evidence amply suffi- 
cient to satisfy the demands of Truth and 
Justice. 

These facts the writer has undertaken to 
compose in a clear method, an easy narrative, 
and, as far as he has the ability, an agreeable 
style. Beyond this he does not seek to go. 
He would neither exaggerate the objects in 
his picture, nor add a coloring beyond the 
hues of nature, ^ov has he need, foi- the 
scenes through which the doctor passed, have 
interest enough without any distorted figures 
drawn by the pen of Fancy. In fine, the 
writer desires to make a volume of authentic 
and unimpeachable histoiy. It will aid the 
historian who, in future time, shall wish to fill 



6 PREFACE. 

up his page with the actors and actions of our 
days. 

The life of a man whose mind was so con- 
centrated on Surgery, Physical Science, and 
the art of medicine, is one in which the lover 
of those sciences cannot fail to take deep inter- 
est. It is but natural that men will seek to 
know the origin of one who stood in the fore- 
most rank with the most noted Surgeons and 
Physicians of Rhode Island and Connecticut, 
and the facts of his early life, and of the 
expanding of his mind. With eager curiosity 
we look back, and in the sports of his child- 
hood, in the pursuits and occupations of his 
youth, we seek the origin and source of all that 
is noble and exalted in the man, the germ and 
the bud from which have burst forth the fair 
fruit and the beautiful flower; and we carefully 
treasure up each trifling incident and childish 
expression, in the hope to trace in them some 
feature of his after greatness. Feeling that 
the early life of a man like John McGregor, 



PREFACE. ' 

and the growth of those feeUngs and opinions 
which afterwards embodied themselves in the 
art of Sm-gery and Medicine, would be inter- 
esting to many, we deem it fortunate if we can 
give even a short sketch of his life. We will 
give a short accoruit of his parentage, and then 
content ourselves with a general outline of his 
after life, so full of striking events and useful 
labors. 



LIFE a:n^d deeds 

OF 

Dr. JOHN McGregor, 



The grandfather of Dr. John MeGregor 
was one of the hneal descendants of the 
McGregors of Scotland. He was l^orn in 
Dnndee, Scotland, in 1748, and died in Cov- 
entry, R. I., in 1820, aged 77. In coming to 
Amei-ica, he bi-onght with him httle except a 
liberal edncation and a thorongh knowledge 
of militaiy tactics. His knowledge of mihtary 
tactics made him a desirable acqnisition to the 
ranks of the yeomen of Connecticnt, who were 
vastly ignorant of the tirst i)rinci])les of militaiy 
art and strateu'v. Here he drilled a large 



10 LTFK AXD DEEDS OF 

fompaiiy, in Plainfield. in niilitai'v tactics and 
evolutions, and hurried with thcni to Boston 
at tlic fii-st alarm Avliicli convulsed the feeble 
colonies at the ])i'os])ect of so unequal a strug- 
i>le. He afterward connnanded his conipanv 
at the battle of Bunker Hill, and Avas in many 
of the i)rinci])al en<>-agements durino- the entire 
wai* of the Revolution. He was ])resent at the 
surrender of Coi'uwallis at Yorktown, and was 
linally honorably dischar<;ed by Washin<>-ton, 
at New^ York, at the end of the Revolution, 
He was in connnand of the i>'uard over the 
lamented Major Andre during" his shoi*t con- 
finement, and (^vei* I'clated the incidents attend- 
\u<X his ti'ial and execution, with luicontrollable 
emotion. He mai'i'ied Retsey Shepard, daui>"h- 
ter of Simon Shepard, of Plainfield. She w^as 
l)oi*n in Plainfield, Connecticut, in 17o7, and 
died in (Joventry, Rhode Island, in 1815, 
ao-ed 0(S. 

('Ol. Jeremiah Mc(Trei>*or, son of John 
Mcdivgoi', and father of Dr. John McGi'egoi*, 
was boi'u in Coventry, Rhode Island, in 1780, 
and died in Coventry, in 1870, ai>ed Do. He 
married Elipha Nichols, dau<>hter of Major 



l)u. .JOHN McUKEGOK. 11 

Jonathan Nichols. She was born in Coventry, 
Rhode Ishind, in 1784, and died in Coventry, 
September 9th, 1874, aged 90. 

Tlie hite Dr. John McGregor })ore the name 
of his grandfather, and was born in the town 
of Coventiy, Khode Island, on the 10th day of 
Octol^er, 1820. His earlier years foretokened 
those of his manhood. Among his neighbors, 
lie was always called a good boy, and among 
the boys of his age, he was the great favorite. 
In all their projects, he was the preferred one 
who was ccmmiissioned to carry them forward 
to their c(msnmmation. His early edncation 
was only snch as onr best seminaries afforded 
at that time. 

We will ])ass over his boyish days, or nntil 
he arrived at the age of sixteen. At this time 
his character is described by those who well 
knew him, as distinctly formed. He was fnll 
of hope, and animated by a jnst sense of honor, 
and a generons ambiticm of honest fame. His 
heart was oj)en and kind to all the world, warm 
with affection toward his friends, and with no 
idea that he had, or deserved to have, an enemy. 
It seems that he was intended for one of the 



12 TJFK AM) DKKDS Ol^ 

Irni'iu'd j)i*()lvsHi()nH. In the* sj)rin«4- of 18^)7, wv 
II IK I him engaged as clerk in the 8toi-e of >Ste- 
])hen Taft. At this time, Ste])hen Taft was 
one of tlie larti'est mannfaetiirer.s of cotton 
(•h>th, in the country. Hi-^ viihige was situated 
in the east j)ai*t of Coventi'y, whei'e now is 
h»caled one of the largest and most heautifnl 
cotton inanufact ining NiUages in llho(h' Island, 
cahed (^)uidni(dv. After sei'ving as elei'k in 
tlie store for a])ont two years, lie I'cturned 
home, and soon after placed himself under the 
teachings of Andrew Cutlei', of Plainfield, 
Connecticut, then quite a celebrated man. 
Cntler was a graduate of Brown, Rhode 
Island, and, at that time, was keeping a High 
School in l*laiiilicld. After studying one year 
with (/Utier, he occupied his time for the next 
two years in keeping* district schools in dill'er- 
ent towns in Rhode Island. 

In 1842, he became a member of the Phenix 
Ba])tist (Jhnrch, at Phenix, It. I.; and all 
tlnough his life he exerted his inHnence in the 
furtherance of the canse of (^hrist. 

At the time the Smithvilh' Seminary opened 
its doors t<> the |)ul)lic, he was one of the fu'st 



Dii. JOIIX McGREGOE. 13 

to enter. He ]mrsiiefl the usual ])i-e]xaratoiy 
studies, and graduated in 1848. Smithville 
Seuu'uarv eonuueueed o])ei'atioiis October lltlu 
1S4(). The members ot'the Honi-d of'Iiisfnictioii 
were as follows: Ilosca (^iiinhy, A. M., Pi'in- 
cipal; Stowell L. Weld, A. M., Associate 
Priucipal; (Vi'oliiie L. Johusou aud Auiey M. 
Baxter, Teachers in the Female Department; 
Stephen B. Winsor, Kegister and Steward. 
This institution was located on the Hartford 
and Providence Turn])ike, nine miles west 
of Providence, in a very pleasant country, and 
stood on a small eminence commanding a view 
of a few neat villages, and also tlu'ee i)hices of 
woi'shi]) situated near. 

In 1848 he entered the ofhce of Dr. William 
Hul^l^ard, of Cromi)ton, Khode Island, as stu- 
dent. He continued his studies with Dr. Hub- 
bard three years, attending medical lectures at 
the Medical Institution at TsTew York, within 
that time. I shall always remember the first 
time that he went to I^ew York to attend 
medical lectures. At this time, a number of 
young students, who wei'c going to N^ew York 
to attend medical lectui'cs, had an understand- 



u 



IJFK AND l)i:i:i)S OF 



iii<>' anions" tlu'inscUcs to inccl al Mc(Ti*('L>"()r's 
old lionu'stcjid, and <^'o to New York to<>'C'thc'i'. 
In the afternoon j)revi()ns totluMlay ai)j)ointc'd 
lor tlu'pn to start for New York, Moscvs Filield, 
I'homas Andrews, William Bennett, Wilhnr 
Briii'ii's, and flohn Hill, ari'ived at the old 
homestead of Dr. MeCxre^^-or, and fonnd him 
making- pi'eparations for the joui'ney. The 
evening was |)asse(l mostly in conversation 
concerning their fnture plans and ])ros])ects. 
Some one of the j)arty, I think it was IJennett, 
asked the wi'itei- what ])rofession he shonld 
choose. in I'eply, he told him that he thonght 
a certain ti'ade Avonld he as profitable as a 
profession, and that he thought he shonld learn 
that ti'ade. ^"W'hat trade is that Avhich wonld 
he as |)rofitahle as our ])rofession?'' asked l>en- 
nett. "]\raking cofHns," answei'ed the writer, 
"(or I think that when all of you get thi'oiigh 
with your studies, and conunence to practice, 
there will he great call lor them." 

l^'hat was hefore the Hartford and I*i'ox'i- 
dence Railroad was built, so those \oung 
doctors were conveyed, by carriage, Irom the 
old homestead to C'enti'al \'illai;*e, on the Xoi'- 



wieli and Worcester Railroad. From there 
they went, l)y rail, to Norwich, and from ^NTor- 
wieh, hy steamboat, to JSTew York. Where 
are tliose men to-day? Filield is at Center- 
ville, Briggs in Providence, their hair as white 
as the driven snow; and the others are sleeping 
that long and dreamless sleep, in their gi-aves. 
Di". McGregor gradnated in 1845, at the 
Medical University of ^ew York. Soon after, 
Dr. Wagstaff ottered him a sitnation in the 
Lying-in Asylmn of 'New Yoilv. Dr. Wagstaif 
liad the fnll control of that institntion at that 
time. Dr. McCli-egor remained in the institn- 
tion nntil 184(), when lie retnrned to his native 
town. He opened an othce at liis father's 
honse, and notihed the ])eo]>le that lie was at 
their service. The following is the 

XOTK^E. 

Dr. J. Mc(Tregoi', a gradnate of the Xew 
York University Medical College, having, for 
ihc |)ast eighteen months, enjoyed the facilities 
lor the ac(piisiti()n of medical knowledge which 
the New \i)vk h()sj)itals, asylnnis, and disi)en- 
sarics present the medical student, (eels himself 
(pialilicd for the discliarge of those duties which 



H 



IKK vVNi) i)i«;i<;i)s OK 



(l('\()l\(' ii|)oii ;i iiicdicnl pinct it ioiuM'. lie has 
localcd hiiii.scll* at \\'\^ ralhcr's house, vvhci'c lie 
can he coiisiiIIcmI ,'i1 :iII I'iiik's. vvhcii not proles- 
si(»ii;ill\ iihsi'iii. 

John M( ( hm;<.<)i;. 

NkW \nl!K l<VI.\(i-l.\ ASVI.I M. Milicll L'lMld. 1S45. 

I rriMilv lliMi -I'tlm Mcdrc.uor, M. I>.. '•! Ivmi Coimly. I{li<.<lc 
IslaiKl. has Itccii DislricI riiysiciaii lo llii> instil iiiion lor a y«'ar 
past, thiiiii.u wiiirh limc he lias att.iiiltd a laiMf miiiilx-r of 
wonicii ill <<iiiiiii.iii(iit . and had charuf. in inv al»>cM<'i-. of thr 
Asylum : in liir I nllilhntiit of which <hiti»-,s jir piovcd iiiinsclf an 
aUcnlivf and slviiirii! |ira<i ilioncr <>r liir lii-lil,\ iiii|torl:iiil liraiich 
.d ina.ii.c. < H.shi cics. 

NVm. \l. \Va<;stai I . M. I).. 

UcsidtMil I'hysician mI New Voik l.yinu-in Asylum iiiiiiiIh r n\ 
Pai-isian iMcdical Soridv. Lcrinr.'i' on MidsvilVi\ rtc 



When il was aiiiiniiiiccd Mini he w as coiuino' 
home 1(» ^<'lll(', ;ill ihc ix'oplc wcrr pleased, :nid 
ready to receive him wilh oiilsl iclchcd anus. 
lie had heeii at home litil a short time helore 
he had moi'e husiness than he could attend to. 
Ills rides were vei*y lon<^', Ini' theic was n(» 
(h)etoi* Avitliin ei^^ht miles o(* him. Ih had no 
(ear of c<>m|M't ilion, hnt those lon;^' rides onci" 
those lar<;'e hills, thron^^h storms and dark 
iii<»'litH, wei-e not \rv\ pleasant. I lis home 
soon hecame a hospital, where the hiind re- 



Dk. JOTTX McaiREGOR. 17 

eeived their sight again, cataracts vanished like 
the morning dew, hair-Hps were remodeled into 
very respectable looking ones, crooked eyes 
were sti-aightened, polypnses were removed 
from the nose; legs which had been drawn up 
for years were straightened, cancers were 
removed with the knife, and many other oper- 
ations were often performed. 

Di'. George Wilcox, of Providence, com- 
menced the study of medicine with him at this 
time. Here it was that Dr. Wilcox first dis- 
sected a human body. 

The ruling motive of McGregor's life, was 
to become an accomplished surgeon. From 
his start, all his energies were bent in this 
direction, and finding a country practice did 
not afibi-d him the facilities he desired for the 
prosecution of this branch of his profession, he 
removed to Phenix. This change was against 
the wishes of many of his warm and true 
friends. He did not leave his friends and 
patients until he had engaged Dr. P. K. 
Hutchinson, a young physician who had grad- 
uated with the greatest honors which the 
medical histitutions could bestow, to take liis 



18 



LI I' I'. AM) 1)1:1: 1 >S 



phicc. I )r. 1 1 iilcliiiisnii lu'caiiic one ol' ihc 
inosl cniiiU'iil |>li\si(ian> in llic ((uinliN I )r. 
Mc( ii'c^nr inoNcd lo IMiciiix in IIk Inll <»(' 
I<S17. licit- he w ;i^ >-iiii <uiii(l('(l l»N (iHlorN 
N'illa^Ts ill nil diict lion^. lie Ii;mI |H'i'\ ions! v 
sianiu'd ihis st* lion <>! (»>nnlr\, and ciinu' lo 
llu- ((nicinsion, ihal willi lii> Ivimw Icd^i' ol' 
sMi'«4('rv, I his was iju- place lor him; lor hun- 
dreds, every year, nm'I'c injiire<l in 1 hose 
mills. Mere his e\|K'( lalions were more than 
realized. lie |>ro\ed himscH' lo he a siir«^"eon 
and physician ol" no small mcril. Mere he 
i;alheretl aionnd Inm a hos; o|' Inic and reliahle 
Iriends. W hen a man coidd IiiiIn saN that 
such men as fl«>se|»h Law Ion, I lcnr\ I >. l>ro\\ n, 
l^]|isha and Thomas Lanphear, Simon II. 
(ui'cne and lamils , riaines |>. Arnold, |)a\id 
l*ike, William (\ Ames, ( A ins and Sicplun 
Harris, and a host of olhers, were amon*^ Ins 
true Iriends, he should he ncin, \er\ prond. 

The tloetor earU sh(>we<l his Scoti h hlood; 
thai is (osaN, he had the s( roni;, siihslanlia! 
( I na lilies ot'c ha racier lor w huh I he w cll-lraiiu'd 
Inmihes of Siollaml arc rcmarkahle. No 
|>i't>l>U' are calmer in acThm, inoii' re\ei\'nl in 



Dm. JOTIK M( GKl^.aOTJ. 19 

ivli<>i<)us fc'C'lin<>", or surj)nss tluMii in intc'g*i'ity. 

In July, 1S4S, lie inai'ric'd Emily P. Anius, 
(lmi<;htc'r of William C. Ames, of Plu^nix, 
Rhode Island. I will not attempt to desei-il)e, in 
detail, all which transpired eoneei'ning- him 
while he was at Phenix; for it is enon<^h foi* 
my j)iu'])ose to say that his ])raetiee was very 
extensive, and that he Avas veiy sneeessfnl in his 
snrg'ieal operations, which were his s])ecialty. 

In 1850 or '51, Di*. Howen, of Thompson 
Hill, Connecticnt, was snnnnoned hy the Angel 
of Death to the Heavenly Coni't, heyond the 
clonds. He was one of the most eminent snr- 
<;eons in Connecticnt. His ])ractice was very 
extensive, and he was veiy sneeessfnl in o])ei'- 
atini;-. 'I'he loss to the jx'ople was very gi'cat. 
TluM"e was a vacancy to l)e filled. ''Who can 
fill Dr. Howell's place to the satisfaction of the 
])eo])ley wlio Avill (hn*e take his place as sm- 
ii'eonV'' were the saving's of manv of his 
fi-iends. All who know the ])eople of 'I'hom])- 
son, know that doctors and ])reacliers ol* the 
_i;'osj)el nuist he first-chiss. to he pati'onized hy 
them. After i'e( civin^- a nnmher of* lettei's 
Iron) some of the most j)rominent men in 



20 FJFK AND DKEDS OF 

TiioinpHOii, 8olieitiii<>- liini to come and take the 
place left vacant by the death of Dr. Boweii, 
he went and made a thorongli examination of 
everything ajjpei'taining to tlie filHng of the 
vacancy. He was convinced that he conkl, 
after a time, fill the ])lace to the satisfaction of 
Dr. Bowen's friends, and the commnnity at 
large. After coming to this conclnsion, and 
consnlting with his wife and her family, and 
many of his most intimate friends, he conclnded 
to leave Phenix, and to go to Thcmipson. It 
was a great ti-ial for him to leave Phenix, and 
his many warm friends; and it Avas as great a 
trial to his friends to have him go. He moved 
to Thompson in 1852, and soon opened an 
office, and commenced ])ractice. We will dro]j 
a vail over the sad hearts which he left at 
Phenix, and follow him to his new field of 
operations. 

The wealthy and beantiful little village of 
Thomjjson, with all the adornments which 
wealth can add to make it attractive to the 
eye, is sitnated on a gentle eminence which 
slopes toward the setting snn, terminating in 
a beantifnl valley, with Qnimie])ang I'iver 



Di!. JOHX McGKE(iOK. 21 

glancing and dancing throngh it; and faced 
by Woodstock Hill, whose echo sends back 
the sonnds of its clear-toned bells. Snch is a 
glimpse of Thompson Hill. 

Here we find Dr. McGregor, snn-onnded by 
the most hopeful prospects. Everything which 
makes hfe desirable seemed to be placed before 
him. Dr. Bowen's friends received him kindly, 
and his pi-actice soon extended far and near; 
and ere long he could truly say that his success 
was far beyond all for which he had ever 
hoped. At this time, to the beholdei*, he was 
in his zenith ; but man's vision does not extend 
far into the future. We are visitable by many 
things which make life enjoyable, and also by 
things which make life almost unendurable. 
The vicissitudes in this life are many. Ere 
long the bright blue sky was o'ercast by a cloud 
which filled his heart with anguish and soi-row. 
His beloved wife was taken sick, and in 
March, 1855, her soul passed from earth to 
that undiscovered country. Then, all was 
dai-kness and gloom. His home was desolate, 
his fairest i)ros]3ect blasted. Sym])athy will 
often soothe the feelino-s, but will not heal the 



I.II-I-; AN It i>i:i':ms <>i- 



hcnrt which Is hicci-jitt'd and torn. He kiU'NV 
that cNCi'vlhini:- which coiihl he chHU' 1<> nlh'- 
\inlc her siijl'n-iii^s, and ((((hdcat llic Aii_u"cl 
<d' l)c<-ilh, \\i[{\ hccn (h)iic as lai* as il was in his 
powc'i': and he also knew that he ninst suhmil 
lo 1 he all-j»o\\ crlnl and all-wise (io<l. The 
iiioi-i;d |>arl <»r hi- hel<»\'ed wile was carernlly 
remoNcd l'r(Hn her hoiiie in Thompson, to 
l*heni\, her own natix'e \'illa<^"e, and the scenes 
ofher childhood, and thei'c, beside lier kinch'cd, 
hiid away to wait the coming' of the f^oi'd. 
Sadly he retnrned to his desolate home. 

I will now pass to other scenes. l^Jie scenes 
in this life are cNcr chan_i;in<4". We see him 
drivin^ii' o\'er those lol'ty hills, a"nd thron,ii'h 
those lertile \alleys, thron;_;h sloi-ms and |)leas- 
ant weather; exposed to the cold in winter, and 
to the scorchin;^- rays ol* the snn in snmmei'. 
'^Fhe many \aried and dillicnlt opei'ations which 
lie was called upon to |)er(oi'm, and his nniloi'in 
snccess, made for him the repntation o(*a lirst- 
elass ojx'ratoi*. Windham (/onnty had nnlim- 
ited eontidence in his ability; and the snavity 
oChis manners endeared him to evei'v honseliold 
he e\'er enteivd. 



J)i!. .JOHN- MriiHKGOR. 23 

As time passed on, he formed an acquaint- 
ance with Ehzaheth C. Allen, a lady endowed 
with all the qualities requisite for a physician's 
wife; and, on January 10th, 1856, they were 
married. 

I will pass on to 1861. At this time it could 
not be denied that the United States was a 
great nation, although a controversy between 
the ^NTorth and South had grown to an alarm- 
ing extent. The sympathies of the people were 
divided between the T»^orthei*n and Southern 
parties, on the great question. A war, which 
so many of the warm spirits of the country 
looked for, was soon to take place. At this 
time the Great Rebellion was inaugiu'ated, 
and had begun to convulse the land. The 
tocsin of alarm was sounded, and the notes of 
prepar;ation were heard from Maine to Louisi- 
ana. -» 

On April 12th, 1861, the rebels bombarded 
Fort Sumter, and caused Anderson to surren- 
der it into their hands. Then the N^orth was 
obliged to take up arms against the South. 

In the controversy of this exciting period, 
the doctor was, in his opinions and acts, with 



24 IJKK AM) DKKDS <)K 

the Kc'])ii))licnn jKirty. lie was ('ducatod, be- 
lieved, and acted, aeeoi'din**' to the ])()litiea] 
])riiiei])les of A1)i'abaiii Liiu-olii. 

'I'lie revohitiou through which the American 
nation was to ])ass, was not a mere local con- 
^'ulsi(^n. It was a wai* for the rights of the 
Avorking chiss of society, and against the nsnr- 
pation of ]>rivileged aristocracies. Tlie lime 
had come ibr a great and decisive struggle 
l)etween these two parties. 

I'hree days after the fall of Sumter, President 
Lincoln issued the memorable proclamation, 
caUing foi" seventy-five thousand volunteers to 
defend the national Ca]ntal, and, finally, to 
reco\'ei* ])ossession of the Ihiited States foi'ts, 
ai-senals, and navy yards, vv hich had been taken 
l)y the rel)els. Previ(ms to isuiing that mem- 
orable j)i-ochimation, I^resident Lincobi had 
done all that mortaj man could do, to apj)ease 
the angry South. He s])ake to them with voice 
majestic as the sound of far-off waters, falling 
into dee]3 abysses. Wai'uing, chiding, he 
spake in this wise: '^Listen to the woi'ds of 
wisdom, listen to the words of warning, from 
the li])s of one that loves you*. I have given 



Du. JOHN McGKEGOK. 25 

yon all the pi'ivileges which the Constitution 
allows yon; why then are yon not contented? 
why then will yon be rebellions? I am weary 
of your qnarrels, yonr wranglings and dissen- 
sions. All yonr strength is in yonr nnion with 
the TsTorth, all your danger is in discord; there- 
fore be at peace, and as brothers live together." 
But they heeded not the warning, heeded not 
those words of wisdom. 

The greatest excitement was created by that 
])roclamation. The doctor said to all the peo- 
ple whom he conversed with, upon that matter, 
""I cordially concur in every word of that 
document." The doctor, true to his impulses, 
was a patriot, stern and inflexible; and the 
sudden and urgent appeal to ai-ms, stirred him 
as with the sound of a trumpet. In the morn- 
ing, after reading, in the morning paper, the 
full account of the bombardment of Sumter, 
and the President's proclamation, he said to 
his friends, *''I feel that I am in debt to my 
country, and I am ready and willing to dis- 
charge the obligation." ^oble and high 
resolve! He immediately wrote to Gov. 
Buckingham, oflering his services to his conn- 



20 iJFK AM) i)i:i:i)s OF 

ti'V. He soon received a (lis])ateh from tlie 
governor, .stating' that he was pleased with his 
otfei", and that his services wonld, ])e ghidly 
accepted, and that he wonld be appointed sur- 
geon of the third regiment. 

At this time the State Legislature was not 
in session, (xov. Buckingham, howevei', had 
such wide financial relations as enabled him 
immediately to connnand the funds for equij)- 
ping the military for the field. Connecticut, I 
think, may say with honest pride, that no men 
went into the field, better equipped, or more 
thoroughly a[)}3ointed and cared for. 

When a man in the doctor's t)()sition, was 
ready and willing to leave his home, his 
friends, his large practice, and almost every- 
thing which makes life desirable, to enter the 
army, and to be subjected to all the sufferings 
and hardshi])s of war, others were ready to 
follow his exam]jle. He never would encour- 
age men to do what he dared not do himself. 
His motto was, "Men, follow!" He did no 
more than thousands of others were I'eady and 
willing to do, at that time. It is to men who 
possessed such hearts, that the country owes 



a (lelit of gratitude; for by and through them 
the country was saved. What would this 
country be to-day if that terrible wave of rebel- 
lion had not been broken? It was broken, and 
thoroughly broken; but at what a sacrifice! 

The prej^aration of the third Connecticiit 
regiment, which was then almost ready to start 
for Washington, was similar to that of other 
regiments which were at that time preparing 
for war; and the scene at Dr. McGregor's at 
the time he left his friends and home, to join 
his regiment at Hartford, was similar to many 
other scenes of the same nature, which were 
taking place in many other sections of the 
country. The parting scene I will not attempt 
to describe. I will leave that to the imagina- 
tion of the reader. It is enough for my purpose 
to say that tlie fjirewell had l^een spoken, and 
lie was on his way to join his regiment. As 
*the last glim])se of his home and the dear ones 
vanished from his view, a ])eculiar pensiveness 
seized upon his mind. There is an indescrib- 
i\h]v charm that links one to the land of his 
nativity. As he took the hist view of his 
liome, the tliousand endeai'ing friends and 



28 LIFE AXI) DEEDS OF 

objects left behind, rushed upon his mind like 
an avalanche. Tender emotions swelled his 
hnsom. It was then he set a trne estimate on 
all he had parted with. Then, for a few 
moments, the interests of the fntnre were lost 
in the melancholy of the present. Snch, no 
donbt, were his feelings. 

I will not l)nrden the reader with the partic- 
nlars of the momentons jonrney fi-om Hartford 
to Washington. The regiment, on ari'ival, 
immediately went into cam]), with the nnder- 
standing that a forward movement wonld take 
place very soon ; for the rebels were massing 
their forces at Manassas Gap. A full descrip- 
tion of those tented fields, and the doings of 
those seventy-five thonsand men, pi-evions to 
the time when the word, '"Forwai-d!" was 
sonnded along the line, wonld he interesting 
to the reader; Init I do not feel competent to 
give it. An old soldier, standing on Arlington 
Heights, and viewing the tented fields, — one 
who had seen mnch service in the army, who 
had fonght the Indians all throngh the Florida 
war, and who had been in many of the hard 
fonght battles in Mexico, said, as he snrveyed 



, Die. JOHN MofiKEGOR. 29 

those iiolds, ''Those poor boys little know what 
they will have to suffer, and to contend with. 
War is a terrible thing, only realized by those 
who fight the battles. I know that those 
Southernei's will fight. I have been with many 
of them in many hard fought battles. I speak 
from experience.'' That old soldier was Gen. 
Winfield Scott. 

On the 22nd of May, Gen. Butler took com- 
mand of the department of the South, and made 
his head-quarters at Fortress Monroe. Gn the 
10th of June, occurred the battle of Big Bethel. 
But a still more sei-ious lesson was to be learned 
by the people. During this time, the rebels 
were not idle, but were spreading their field of 
()])eration, taking possession of important 
points, massing theii* troo])s at different places, 
and i)repaiing to make an assault on our Ga])- 
ital. 

Tlie 4tli of July dawned with all loveli- 
ness. But wiiat a scene presented itself to 
view! The panoramic view, presented to the 
beholder, as he stood on Arlingtcm Heights, 
was such as man can never fully describe. As 
far as the eve could reach, the couutrv was one 



oO . LIKK AN1> DKKDS OF . 

vast eii(ain])inent. An army of seventy-five 
thousand young men, the flower of the iSTorth, 
was preparing for the great sti-uggle. The 
most noted hiwyers had left their courts and 
ehents; the most eminent surgeons and physi- 
cians had left their patients ; cashiers had left 
their hanks; manufacturers had left their 
mills; farmers had left their fiu*ms; clergymen 
had left their churches ; governors had left their 
states in other hands; professors of colleges 
had left their collegians; clerks had left their 
offices; mechanics had left their shops; and 
volunteered, as soldiers, to put down rebellion. 
Such were the men who were tenting before 
Washington. 

The day soon dawned, when the beholder 
could plainly see that something uncommon 
was taking place in that encampment. Staff 
officers were dashing from head-quarters to 
head-quarters; the tattoo was beat by the 
drummer boys; the high notes of the bugle 
were sounded throughout the encampment ; the 
boys were falling into line; tents were taken 
down and packed; and everything denoted a 
departure of the army. Soon the word "Foi-- 



In;. .hm.N M' <.i;i:<;oi;. :;i 

ward!" wa.s somulcd along the line; and then 
came the soimd of tram]), trani]). Iramp, min- 
gled with thr clatter of thi' eavalrv, and the 
riimhle and jar of the ai'tillery. As the lon^- 
line wound itself over tlie liills and out of sio-ht, 
ihe hurnislu'd u-uns and (»ther implements ol' 
war ulistenini;- in that July sim, a sadness 
enveloped those lei't at onr Capital, wdio, on 
])ende(l knees, were askin<>' (xod to ])roteet 
those 1)oys, and to save onr eonntry. Then 
the stillness became almost op])ressive. 

With anxions hearts, we waited for news 
from the front. We received a letter from the 
doctor, while the Jirmy w^as at Fairfax Conrt 
Tlonse, and another when it w^as at Falls 
(Innnh. That was the last one we received 
fi'om him, before the battle of Hnll Ivnn. Tlis 
leltei's were fnll of hojx'. He believed that the 
Xorth was in the ri<;ht; and he also believed 
that ri<4"ht wonld pre\'ail. lie was ahvays 
ho])efnl, from boyhood. ^Ve knew^ that the 
tw^o armies whm'c in close proximity to each 
othei*; and we also knew that oni' army w^as 
then at the very month of the I'cbels' den. A^"e 
kncAV that a terrible battle wonld soon he 



'^.9 



)Z LIFE AXD ]3EEI)S OF 

fought, and we were very anxious to have 
tidings from our army. Still we watched and 
prayed. 

On the 19th of July, the telegraph wires 
fairly trembled, as they conveyed the news to 
all parts of the country, that the battle had 
begun. Then, all was excitement, for we were 
then living between hope and fear. I will 
leave to the imagination of the reader, the feel- 
ings of the people, when the news of the battle 
of Bull Run first reached them. The tale ran 
thus : '• The I^^orthern army is routed, the rebel 
army victorious. The Connecticut and Rhode 
Island regiments have suffered fearfully. Slo- 
cum, Ballon, and many other noted men from 
Rhode Island, and a large number from Con- 
necticut, lie dead upon the battle field. The 
second Rhode Island and the thii'd Connecti- 
cut are almost annihilated, and Dr. McGregor 
and many others taken pi'isoners." 

A true panoramic view of that battle field, at 
the time when the battle was at its height, 
would be such as few would care to see. The 
armies of the ^orth and South had faced each 
other, and wrestled together, for eight long 



T)n. .TOTIK MCGREGOR. 33 

hours, with that desperate courage which 
Americans only can vshow. I will give you a 
short account of that terrible battle which 
made Bull Run and the plains of Manassas 
famous for all time. 

The day was bright and beautiful. On the 
right was the Blue Ridge, and in front were 
the slopes on the north side of Bull Run, 
crowned with woods in which our army had 
early planted its batteries, and all around were 
eminences on which were posted small but 
anxious knots of s])ectators. The hill above 
Mitchell's Ford is almost entirely bare of trees, 
and sufficiently high to afford an unobstructed 
view of the opposite heights. The guns of the 
enemy, on the opposite hills, were plainly to be 
seen with the naked eye ; and the heavy clouds 
of dust, rising above the woods, in front and 
on either side, indicated the direction in which 
the heavy columns of the enemy were march- 
ing. 

The night before the battle, it was generally 
understood that the rebels were gathered in 
great force, and designed turning our left flank, 
which rested a few miles above the scene of 



;U LIFK AND OKF.ns OF 

TluirsdavV cni^-a^cmcnt, nt :\ loi'd <>n l>nll 
Kun, called Stone Brid<>e. 

On Friday, llie 10th, (leii. .J()se])li E. John- 
stem, Avho had the eonnnand of the army of the 
Shenandoah, ])osted at Winchester, arri\'ed at 
Manassas fhinction with I'oni' thonsand of his 
division, to re-enl'orce (fcn. Heaan*ei;ai'(l. ^Vhv 
remainder of his army, with the e\ce|)tion of 
a sufficient lorce to hold \\ inchester, was 
intended to arrive on Satni'day. (xen. Patter- 
son was ordered to swim;' ai'onnd Windiest er, 
and to hold (xeii. Johnston in check. IMie 
noted Ednnmd Ttufiiii, who had against tlie 
walls of Fort Sumter tired the lirst dehant i;nn, 
had come to this coufiict, with his llowini;- white 
lo(dvs, and with eij^hty odd yeai's weig"luu<:if 
upon him, to take i)art in this Hi>ht, eucoura- 
o'iu^i>his youn<;- men hy his presence and exam- 
])le. Agile as a youth of sixteen, with rille on 
his shoulder, his eyes glistened with excitement 
as he bui'ned to engage the Yankee invackM*. 
It was (len. Heauregai'd's purpose to malv(> th(^ 
attack instead of Avaiting to recei\(' it, but he 
])referred at last to let oni' army take the 
initiative; j)erhai)s for tlu' I'cason that (ien. 



Dk. JOHN MCGREGOR. 35 

Johnston's division was detained at Winches- 
ter. Gen. Bnrnside's brigade was situated 
on a hill, above the stone bridge, and the 
Connecticut troops on his left. 

At eleven o'clock our batteries opened fire, 
with rilled cannon and shell, on their left, 
without response. We heard, away to the 
i-ight, about three miles distant, the heavy 
booming of cannon, followed immediately by 
the rattling crack of musketry, the discharges 
being repeated and continuous, which notified 
us that the engagement had commenced in 
earnest at that point where the battle was to 
be fought and won. Beauregard and Johnston 
commanded their main body at Stone Bridge. 
Gen. Jones's brigade was stationed at Black- 
burn's Ford. On the east side of the ford, we 
had two strong batteries in a commanding 
position. Jones's brigade made an attack on 
our left flank, but their troops were compelled 
to retire with heavy loss. All the morning, 
we had been boml^arding Gen. Longstreet's 
position in his intrenchment on the other side 
of the run. We pressed thei^^ left flank, for 
several hours, with terrible effect; but their 



:>() \AVE AM> l)i:!:i)S <M 

men llinclu'd not, iinlil their niiinlu'r had been 
so (rnninishi'd hy the well aimed and steady 
volleys, tliat they were ( omiH'Ued to </\\\' way 
for new re;^*iments. 

At two o\'h)(dv, the resuh hnni;' t renil)lin<4- 
in the hahmee. \Ve had h)st many oToni'dis- 
tin*4iiished ollieers, and onr lanks diminished 
reai-fully. ^rhe I'ehels had lost hea\ily. (fcn- 
erals Bartow and l>ee had heen stii( Iven down; 
Col. Johnson, of the Hampton Legion, had 
beeiil<illed; Col. Ilamptoii had been wonnded ; 
but there were at hand the (earless «4-enerals, 
Beanre*;ai'd, rlohnson, and ljon<;sti'eet, to 
eontend with. Onr *;'enei'als were still hoj)e- 
iid ; hnt the mnsketi'N on onr side was a"ettin<>' 
faint; and the i;i'eat <>'nns of the enem\', 
unprovoked from oni* almost exhansted hat- 
tei'ies, wei'e now hnt sparely tired. Everything;', 
tlierelore, indicated anothei* Inll; and it eonld 
not be made certain to om' minds bnt that we 
had really won the n ietory, after all, and that 
the hist cannonade was bnt the ani^i-y fmisji of 
the enemy. 

Suddenly a ery broke from the ranks, " Look 
there! Look there!'' and, tnrnin*;- their eyes 



DR. JOH^ MCGREGOR. 37 

towards Manassas, the whole of our drooping 
regiments, as well as those who were moving 
to the rear, saw a sight whieh none who gazed 
n])on it will forget. A long way up the i*ise, 
and issuing from the enemy's extreme left, 
ap])eared, slowly debouehing into sight, a dense 
column of infantry, marching with slow and 
solid step, and looking, at this noiseless dis- 
tance, like a mirage of ourselves, or the illusion 
of a ])anorama. Rod by rod the massive 
column lengthened, not breaking off at the 
completion of a regiment, as we had hoped, 
but still pouring on, and on, and on, till one 
regiment had lengthened into ten. Even then 
the stern tide did not j^anse, for one of its arms 
turned downward along Uw far side of the 
triangle; and the source of the flood, thus 
relieved, poured forth again, and commenced 
lining the other in like manner. Still the 
solemn picture swelled its volume, till the ten 
regiments had doubled into twenty, and had 
taken the formation of three sides of a hollow 
square. Our legions, though beginning to feel 
the a])])roach of d(\spair, could not take their 
eyes from the majestic ])ag(ant; ;r<id, though 



:)S LIKK A.\'I> l)K!:i)S OV 

ox|)('ric'iicin<^' a new lU'cessity, were IVozeii to 
the si<4ht. The martial tide tlowed on, tlie 
lengthening- regiments growing into thirty 
thousand men, with a mass of black cavalry in 
its center; the whole moving toward ns, as the 
snn danced ii])on its ])()m}) of bayonets, with 
the same solemn stc]). This w^as wai', compact, 
well made, and reasoning war. It was w^ar, 
too, in all its j)omi) and glory, as well as in its 
streng-th; and we at once comprehended we 
were beaten. 

Gen. Patterson had let (Tcn. Kirby Smith 
slip throngli his lingers, w^ith his thirty thou- 
sand; and the tide of battle turned in theii- 
favor by the arrival of Gen. Kirby Smith from 
Winchester, with his fresh thousands; and oui' 
Waterloo was lost. Among the last to tnrn 
their faces from the fight they had so gaily 
songht, was the Bnrnside ])rig'ade, which, 
accompanied by Gov. Sprague and its gallant 
Brigadier, and headed by its colonels, I'ctiied 
in line of battle with orders to covei' the retreat. 

As I am not writing a history of the war, T 
will give a descri])ti(m of scenes, only whei'c 
the doctor was one of the actors. The first 



DiJ. JOHK MCGREGOR. 39 

reliable information we received concerning the 
doctor, after the battle, was by a letter from 
Alexander Warner, Major of the third Con- 
necticut regiment. The following is the 
contents of the letter. 

Camp Kkyks. Washington, Aug- 1st, 1801. 
Mr. J. McGiii:G(ni : 

Dear Sir, 

Your letter came to hand last evening, and 
I hasten to give you the information j^ou desire. Your son, 
Dr. McGregor, was surgeon of our regiment. Tlie morning of 
July 21st, he went with his regiment to the battle field, and 
there stopped at a house which was to be used as a hospital for 
our wounded. He remained there through the day, faithfully 
attending to liis duties. When the retreat was ordered, I rode 
up to the hospital. The doctor came to the door, all besmeared 
with ])lood. I told him that a retreat was ordered, and, for his 
own safety, he had better leave at once. He asked me if there 
was any preparation for removing the wounded men. I told 
liim there was not. He then turned and went into tlie hospital. 
As he turned, he said, " Major, I cannot leave the wounded men, 
and 1 shall stay with tlicm, and let the result follow." That was 
the last time I saw him, and I did not know what had liecome 
of him until, a day or two ago, a prisoner, ])elonging to the 
fourth Maine regiment, made his escape from Manassas ; and he 
saw the doctor there, attending to our wounded men. 1 have 
no doubt but that, in due time, the doctor will return to us. I 
am very happy to l)e able to give you the above information, as 
to the \vhereal)outs of your son; and anything I can do for yon. 
in relation to him, I sliall be most happy to do. We miss the 
doctor verv nnich, {is he was highly respected l>y all of our reg- 



40 \AFK AND HKKDS OK 

inicnt. I shall see the doctor's wife as soon as I .i>('t lioinc, and 
iiive her all the partienlars. If there is anythinii" I can do for 
yon, in any way, please let nie know. 
Yonrs very truly, 

ALKXAXDKn Wahnkk, 

Major of the tldrd Connect icnt reiiinienl. 

4'ho ])art of* his history while he was a ])ris- 
oiuT in tlie ivbels' hands, and the aceonnt of 
his siiiierings whik^ in those k)athsonie ])risons, 
and of the many scenes in which he Avas one 
of the actors, are written from a desci'iplion 
which he gave himself. His account of his 
imi)risonment, liis trials, liis siitfe ring's, and of 
some of tlie hlood-cnrdling (U'cds which he 
saw done, is as follows. 

First, after onr army was ordered to I'clreat, 
many of our regiments ])assed willnn view^ of 
my hospitah It w^as a lonesome time for me, 
I assnre ycm. Seeing oni' aiiny I'etreatiug, and 
knowing that very soon I should he surrounded 
and taken ])risoner by those rebels whom I 
des])ised, was not very i)leasant, to say the 
least of it. Very soon I ccmld hear the rebels 
shonting, "Victory!" and soon on they came, 
more hke (Umuous from the infei'ual regions 



than civilized men. About this time the 69th 
'New York regiment, a regiment of Zouaves, 
commanded by Col. Michael Corcoran, came 
marching along, all in good order; but you 
could see by their movements that they were 
terribly disappointed. You could also see, 
that if they were obliged to retreat, they would 
not run like a flock of frightened sheep, but 
would retreat like men who had been trained 
to obey orders. 

On came the howling rebels, flush with vic- 
tory. Soon that noted Black Horse cavalry 
came rushing down upon these Zouaves. It 
was the most splendid company of horsemen 
I ever saw. Every horse was as black as the 
i*aven's wings. Every man showed that he 
had been trained by a master of no small intel- 
lect. They were armed to the teeth; and their 
horses were beautifully caparisoned. I learned 
afterward that that company was composed of 
rich men's sons, and it was really the flower 
of the South. 

The 69th, on going on to the battle held, had 
disrobed themselves of everything ex(*ept their 
pants and fighting utensils, which made them 



42 LIFE A^^D DKKDS OF 

look 1-atlier peculiar. They, also, were armed 
to the teeth, and as no other regiment was 
armed. I remember how those long saber-bay- 
onets glistened. I knew those men knew how 
to use them, as well as those long sheath knives 
which they carried in their girdles. I had seen 
that regiment go through with their peculiar 
drill, and I knew that whatever company 
attacked that regiment would suffer. The 
(59th was com]30sed of men selected for that 
particular regiment. They were the worst 
men that could be found in the city of T^ew 
York. At least, such was their reputation. 
They were allowed to fight according to their 
own peculiar way. 

When I saw that splendid company of cav- 
alry swooping down upon that regiment of 
Zouaves, I knew that there would be a terrible 
battle. Instead of forming a square, as most 
regiments would have done, to protect them- 
selves from the charge which that company 
of cavalry was soon to make upon them, they 
opened ranks and let those horsemen I'ide right 
in among them. Then came a scene which 
can never be fully described. Then those 



1)11. JOHN McGREGrOK. 43 

Zouaves showed their peculiar mode of fight- 
ing. Within two minutes, the two regiments 
were all mixed up, each man fighting on his 
own hook. This was just what those Zouaves 
wanted. They had been brought up in just 
such scenes. They had been drilled in that 
mode of fighting. They were in their glory 
noAv. ]N^ow was the time when those knives 
became useful. Horses went down as by mag- 
ic; riders Avere unseated for the last time. In 
less than twenty minutes, the ground was cov- 
ered with the dead and dying, — men and 
horses in one promiscuous heaj). 

TUE BLACK HOKSE CAVALRY. 

We waited for their coming beside that craggy run, 
And gaily shone tlieir trappings and glistened in the snn. 
We saw the well kept horses and marked the stalwart men. 
And each Zouave his long knife took and tried the charge again. 

On, on they came in close set ranks; O, 'twas a goodly sigiit ! 
Their horses shone like ebony, their arms were burnished bright. 
A breathless silence; then there came a ringing down the van, 
■' Lie low ! Kcmeudier Ellsworth ! Let each one pick his man." 

A thousand ritle tiaslies; then shrieks and groans of pain, 
While clouds (>f (hist uprising over the fatal plain, 



4A: LTFK A^^D DEEDS OF 

While the 2;leamino- l)a.yonets seemed like the lii»-htnin,ii-'s flash, 
A cry, "Remember Ellsworth!" and tlie deadly forward dash. 

Silence; — horses riderless and scourinii- from the fray, 
While here and there a trooper spurs his worn steed away. 
The smoke dispels — the dust blows ott' — subsides the fatal stir. 
Virginia's Black Horse Cavalry are with the thin.^-s that were. 

A wailing on the sunny slopes alona; the Shenandoah ; 
A weepiuii' where the York and James' deep rolling? torrents pour ; 
Where Rappahannock peaceful ijlides on many a fertile plain, 
A cry of anguish for the loved wlio ne'er may come au^ain. 

The widow clasps the fatherless in silent, speechless ,i2:rief, 
Or weeps as if in flood of tears the soul could And relief. 
The Old Dominion weeps, and mourns full many a gallant son 
Who sleeps upon that fatal fleld beside that craggy run. 

O matrons of Virginia ! with you has been the blame. 

It was for you to l)end the twig before its ripeness came ; 

For you a patriot love to form, a loyal mind to nurse ; 

Yet ye have left your task undone, and now ye feel the curse. 

Think ye Virginia can stand and bar the onward way 
Of Freedom in her glorious march, and conquer in the fray? 
Have you so soon the truths forgot whicli Washington let fall, 
To cherish Freedom ever, and Union above all? 

Go to ! for thou art fallen, and lost thy high estate, — 
Forgotten all thy glories ; ignoble be thy fate ! 
Yet from the past's experience a lesson may be won : 
Though all tliy flelds be steeped in Idood, still Freedom's marcli 
is on. 



Dr. JOHN McCiKEaOR. 45 

The South was, on that day, taught a lesson 
which they never will forget. Col. Corcoran, 
and most of the living Zouaves, were taken 
prisoners. Months after, I had a chance to 
study his character. I was in the same prisons 
with him, and shared the insults and privations 
of the necessaries of life, while in those prisons. 

Soon after that fight between the Black 
Horse cavalry and the Zouaves, my hospital 
was surrounded, and we were all taken pris- 
oners. A strong guard was placed around, and 
then I realized the value of freedom. At the 
time that Major Warner rode up to inform me 
that a retreat was ordered, Lafayette Foster, 
United States senator from Connecticut, was 
in my hospital. He had been helping me nearly 
all day. When he heard me say that I should 
not leave those men, he turned to me, and said, 
''Doctor, what shall I do, go or stay?" 1 
advised him to leave immediately, for I did not 
consider that it was his duty to stay. He 
shook hands with me, and said, ''Doctor, be 
hopeful. Good by." He was the hist man 
whom I spoke with from the Xorth, exce])t the 
prisoners, for many months, ^ight came on. 



4() \AVK AXD DEEDS OK 

I watched over those poor wounded men all 
night, doing what I could to relieve their suf- 
fering. Before morning, a number of them 
had passed from earth. I did not once think 
that our army would retreat so far. I expected 
that the battle would be renewed on the next 
day. How anxious I w^as to hear the l)()oming 
of our Northern cannon once more; but when 
the next day closed, and no sound save the 
groans of the wounded and the jeers of the 
rebels, I felt as if all was lost. I will mention 
a few incidents which occurred while I was at 
that hospital, and then I will ])ass to other fields 
and other scenes. 

An officer belonging to the regiment of 
Zouaves known as the Ellsworth Zouaves, was 
brought into my hospital. (The reader will 
remember Col. Ellsworth was shot in a hotel 
at Alexandria, by the proprietor of the hotel, 
named Jackson.) This Zouave officer was 
mortally wounded, and, on the following day, 
he died. Soon after his death, a man, or i*ather 
something in shape of a man, came into the 
hospital. I learned afterward that his name 
was Jackson, and that he was brother to the 



Dk. JOHN McGRECiOK. 47 

one who shot Col. Ellsworth. Seeing that 
Zouave lying there helpless and dead, he 
walked np to where he lay, took hold of his 
hand, and, while he was looking at him, discov- 
ered a ring npon his finger. He instantly 
recognized that ring. It was a ring given to 
this Zonave by a beantifnl girl in Alexandria, 
as a parting gift. He no donbt had promised 
to wear that ring as long as he lived, and he 
had kept his word. Jackson had oftered him- 
self to the same girl, and had been refused. 
]^ow was the time for revenge. Before he 
could be sto])ped, he had severed that finger 
from the hand; and, as he fled, he was heard 
to say, " I will carr}^ this ring back to the giver, 
and tell her that I have had my revenge." I 
was unarmed, and in one sense helpless; and 
I am now glad that I was, for my hands ai*o 
not stained with that man's blood. 

I will mention one other incident before I 
leave the hospital, and I do it to show how 
strongly a horse will sometimes become at- 
tached to his master. An oflicer was brought 
into the hos])ital, the next morning, in a dying 
condition. His horse was also wounded, ])ut 



48 LTFK AXr> DKKDS OF 

was standing beside his master when the offi- 
cer was discovered. The horse followed them 
to the hos])ital, and hnng ai'onnd all day. The 
officer was bnried, the next day, not far fi'om 
the hospital. The horse seemed to know that 
it was his master whom they bnried, for he 
stayed by that grave as long as I stayed at the 
hospital. I di-essed his wonnd and did every- 
thing I conld for the poor horse. It was 
distressing to see that horse walking or paw- 
ing, and occasionally neighing, aronnd his 
master's graven What became^ of him T know^ 
not. 

On the 25th of Jnly, I had the pleasnre of 
meeting Gen. Beanregard. He told me that 
I was to go to Richmond with the i-est of the 
prisoners, and after the wonnded recovered so 
that they wonld not need my assistance, I 
shonld be exchanged. Bnt when that time 
came. Gen. Beanregard was leading his army 
on other battle fields ; and I never saw or heard 
from him, after I was placed nnder the control 
of the most heartless men that the snn ever 
shone npon. 

I never shall forget onr journc^y to Rich- 



Du. .T0H:N^ McGREaOR. 49 

mond. The wounded suffered terribly. At 
jjlaces where the train stopped, the wounded 
would beg foi' water, but they were almost 
always refused. They were insulted in every 
conceivable way. The engineer would jmll 
the throttle out and start the train very sud- 
denly, then reverse the steam and stop per- 
fectly still, then start again, and continue 
starting and stopping for a long time, on pur- 
pose to annoy those poor wounded men. All 
the while, the crowd which had gathered about 
the depot would be shouting, " Give it to them." 

We at last arrived at Richmond. I had got 
there sooner than I expected, when I left my 
home, and I had ari-ived there under different 
circumstances from what I had ever antici- 
pated. We were huddled into a large brick 
building, and a strong guard was placed around 
us. We soon found out that the building had 
been used for a tobacco factory. The most of 
us could endure the strong smell of tobacco, 
but before we got out, we found that the disa- 
greeable scent of tobacco was a little part of 
what we had to endure. 

While at Kichmoiul, I became intimately 



.")U lAFK AND DKKDS OF 

ac(|iiaiuted with Miehacl ( 'orc-oran, coloiu*! of 
the (i9th, and for nionthw ai'ter had a good 
ehaiiee to study his charaetei*. AYhilo at 
Kichmoiid, an oeeurroiice took phice wliic-li 
proved very niiich to my disadvantage. A 
nnmher of tlie ])risoners escaped from the 
prison. Soon after, 1 was snnnnoned to a])])ear 
before tlie ])()(ly of men wlio, it seemed, had 
eharge of tlie i)rison. T was (piestioned e(m- 
eerning tliose men wlio had esea])ed. I was 
asked, among other qnestions, if T knew tliat 
those men were ealenlating* to eseape. I told 
them tlnit T did know that tliey intended to 
make the attempt. They asked me why I did 
not inform tliem of the fact. My answer dis- 
pleased tliem very mneli, and F ecnild ])lainly 
see that my doom was sealed. By some means 
or othei*, they had also taken a dislike to Col. 
( V)i'eoi-an. We always expressed (mr opinions 
njxm all snbjeets, when asked, but time proved 
that we had to snffer on aeeonnt of onr honest 
opinions. 

We were soon sent to Charleston jail. 
Charleston is situated on a tongne of land 
formed by the jnnetion of Cooper and Ashley 



Dif. JOHN MCGREGOR. 51 

rivers, which communicate- with the ocean 
seven miles below. The plan of the city is 
regular, its streets crossing each other at right 
angles. The harbor is guarded by Fort Sum- 
ter, at the entrance. Fort Sumter stands on a 
little island, about foui* miles from the city. 
Fort Moulti'ie and Castle Pinckney also guard 
the city. The journe}^ from Eichmond to 
Charleston was a dreary one. If I am any 
judge, the country is very poor in many 
respects. The negroes lived in huts; and 
their masters lived in houses, which were set 
upon posts five or six feet from the ground. In 
many places the hogsty was underneath the 
liouse. When we arrived at the jail, we were 
received hy the jailer, and conducted to our 
cells. 

We arrived in Chai'lestcm soon after the 
Xorth had taken a crew who called themselves 
privateers. The I^orth called them ]ji rates. 
We expected that the ^N'orth would hang every 
one of them, and expressed ourselves accord- 
ingly. We were not long in our new quarters 
before Ave were called u])on by some of tlie 
di<rnitaries of C'harleston. At first, tliev 



52 LIFE AXD DEEDS OF 

seemed pleased to form oui* aeqiiaiiitance, and 
said that they woidd do all they could to make 
our visit pleasant. Very soon, one of the i^arty 
went to a window, and called our attention to 
an object which was in the prison yard. On 
looking out, we saw the same number of I'opes 
suspended, with loops at the ends, that there 
were of the pirates which the ^orth had just 
taken. Turning to us, with a leer such as none 
but a Southerner can express, he said, '' Gentle- 
men, if your Northern friends hang those 
privateers, just so many of you will hang 
there." Col. Corcoran straightened himself 
up, and, with defiance flashing in his eyes, made 
this reply: "We all realize that we are in your 
power, at present, and we know that you can 
do with us as you please. It is the duty of the 
IS'orth to hang those men, and I hope that they 
will not shirk their duty." And many of the 
prisoners said, "Amen!" Those brazen faced 
men soon left the cell, and we saw them no 
more. 

While at Richmond, we had food enough, 
such as it was, but now it was very scant. The 
prison was very filthy, and well stocked with 



Dr. JOHN^ McGKEGOR. 53 

vermin. Our sufferings were intensified. We 
now disposed of everything of any value which 
we had, except the dirty clothes which we had 
on our backs, to procure food and medicine. 
'^ What will come next?" was the question often 
asked, but seldom answered. Still we were 
hoj^eful. 

The jail was a large brick building on Broad 
sti-eet. We were confined in an upper room, 
the windows of which were barred, and closed 
with iron shutters, except one very small one, 
overlooking a very narrow street in the rear of 
the buikling. One night we heard the cry of 
^'Fire! Fire!'' and our prison cell, for the first 
time since we ai'rived, was illuminated. As 
nearly as we could judge, the fire broke out in 
a gas house, next door to a sash and l)lind 
factory. The fire spread with great rapidity. 
Great efforts were made to extinguish it, with- 
out the slightest effect. The engines, worked 
by negroes, seemed utterly powerless, and the 
flames spread, finally, to the jail. The roof 
soon took fire. N^o movement was made to let 
the prisoners out. We could hear the guards 
makino: the doors moi-e secin-e. At first we 



54 LIFE AXr> DEEDS OE 

were not alai-med, loi* we expected, in ease the 
fire shonld reach the jail, we shonld be let ont; 
but when we heard the cry, -'The jail is on 
fire!" and heard the gnards making the door 
more secure, we were dismayed. At that time 
our room was so filled with smoke that we 
expected very soon to he suffocated. We 
formed ourselves into a cii'cle and commenced 
mai-ching around, and as v/e passed by the 
window we wonld take a breath and then pass 
on. The heat was becoming intense; but at 
last the fire was subdued and we were saved, 
for what purpose we knew not. At this time 
our allowance of food was one pint of oatmeal 
and one quart of stagnant water a day. 

Soon after the fire, we were removed to 
Castle Pinckney, wliei'c our sufferings were 
beyond description. [The author would at- 
tem])t to give a partial description, but he 
knows that some of the doctor's relatives would 
say, '"Please forbear."] 

After a while, we were removed from Castle 
Pinckney to Columbia. Columbia is pleasantly 
situated near the center of the state, at the 
confluence of Bi'oad and Saluda rivers, which. 



Dij. JOHK McGregor. 55 

when united, form the Congaree. I think that 
the rebels were afraid that we might l)e rescued, 
was why they removed us to an inkmd prison. 

You would be surprised to know how mucli, 
news we gathered while we were in those pris- 
ons. Oui' eyes and ears were eonstanth^ 
o])en, and we were constantly on the alei*t. 
We caught every sound within our hearing, 
and everything which passed within our visicm 
was thoroughly scanned. We gathered a 
great deal of information by hearing the bo3^s 
and ne«:roes talking' in the streets. 

One more incident I must not omit concern- 
ing our prospects while we were in Charleston. 
One morning, while we wei*e in Charleston 
jail, an old man made his appearance at the pris- 
on, and asked ]jermission to see Col. Corcoran. 
At first he was refused, but after a consultation 
with the i)i-ison officials, he was admitted. He 
was a man of medium height, with gray hair, 
and large dark eyes. His general appearance 
denoted that he was no ordinary man. What 
his business was with Col. Corcoran, we could 
not conjecture. They had an interview in one 
corner of our cell, and we could see by the 



56 T.TFK AXD DEKDS OV 

coloiieFs manner, that this man was not an 
enemy. After his departnre. Col. Corcoran, 
with tears ghstening in his eyes, tnrned to us 
and said, ''Comrades, we have a friend who 
has power to enter our cell.'' And we all, as 
if in concert, said, '^ Bless the Lord!'' He was 
a Catholic priest of high standing. He followed 
us to Columbia, and through him the colonel 
obtained money, medicine, and clothing. If it 
had not been for that old priest, we could not 
have lived. After we left Columbia, we saw 
him no more. God bless that old man! He 
will receive his reward after he has passed 
through the pearly gates of heaven. 

Our suftering, while at Columbia, was not so 
great as it was at Charleston. We had more 
and better food, and the prison officials seemed 
to be a little more humane. By catching a 
word here and a word thei'e, we kept better 
posted than any one would think it possible 
for us to do. Nothing transpired while we 
were at Columbia worth relating. It was 
about the same old prison life. 

We were removed from Columbia back to 
Richmond. This was in the spring of 1862. 



Dr. JOHl^ MCGREGOR. 57 

I found Richmond ])rison about the same as 
when I left it, only more filthy. From what 
we could learn, we concluded that the ISTorth 
was still ho])eful, and determined to put down 
the rebellion, at whatever sacrifice it mig^ht 
cost. At that time I was very much broken 
down. 

I was removed from Richmond to Salisbury. 
At that ]3rison the prisoners suffered fearfully. 
Food was very scarce, and disease was sending 
many of the prisoners out of hearing of the 
clamor of men. The prisoners at Salisbury 
were confined in an open lot, or more strictly 
speaking, in an o]3en ])en. This pen was sur- 
rounded by a board fence, and the pi-isoners 
were guarded by men of the lowest type of 
humanity. The poor pi'isoners did not need 
much guarding, for most of them were so fec^- 
ble and emaciated that they could not have 
escaped if they could have had a chance. 
They were ex])osed to all kinds of weather, 
most of them without shelter of any kind. 
Many dug holes to crawl into to ])rotect 
themselves from the scorching sun in sum- 
mer, or the cokl stoims in winter. Food and 



58 LIFE AKD DEEDS OF 

water were of the poorest kind. All the water 
they had was taken from a sluggish pool 
which was in one corner of the pen, mingled 
with all kinds of filth, and surrounded with the 
miasma of death. Oh, that prison pen at Sal- 
isbury! We not only had to endure the fam- 
ine and the fever, but the fiendish looking 
eyes of those rebels glared at us. Such is a 
passing glimpse of the ])rison yaid at Salis- 
bury. 

At this time all hopes of ever seeing my 
friends or home again had almost vanished. I 
had not heard one word from my wife or any 
of my friends, since I was taken prisoner. I 
knew that my friends would do all that mortal 
friends could do for me. I also knew that my 
wife would be almost insane, and that my poor 
old father and mother would sufier terribly on 
account of my being where they could not 
know how I was faring, but I was glad they 
could not. I knew that all avenues through 
which my friends could reach me, were securely 
closed. I was sure that I could not live much 
longer under such treatment. Despondency 
was strongly afibcting my mind. I would turn 



DK. joh:n" McuREaoE. 59 

my mind homeward, and hope that the founda- 
tion of our national power still stood strong. 
I had great confidence in the ability of our 
government, and I felt assured that, sooner or 
later, rebellion would be put down. Often, on 
bended knees, I would ask God to save our 
country, and to spare my life until rebellion 
was wiped from our land. 

At last, I was taken from the prison pen at 
Salisbury, and left upon the banks of the James 
river, completely destitute. For what purpose 
I was left there, in that condition, I can assign 
but one reason, and that is that the}^ left me 
there to die. I took a survey of my situation, 
and while doing so, these words flashed 
through my mind; ''Hope on, ho])e ever." I 
was without food, and my wardrobe I will not 
attempt to describe. I had often i-ead about 
Elijah being fed by the ravens. Would they 
feed me? Just as the sun was sinking behind 
the western hills, I discovered an old negro 
stealthily approaching me. Was he friend oi* 
foe? That was the question Avhich ran through 
my mind. As he came near, I discovered that 
he had a basket in liis hand, and that he was 



\.\Vh] A\l> hllKDS OK 



(MHislniillv scjiimiii*^- llu' ("•mitiv iii r\rv\ dircc- 
IhHi, :is ir \\r WJis alxnil to do soincl hiiii;- w hicli 
hi' wished lo ki'i'|) scci'cl. Just hidoii' he ^ol 
lo u ht'ic 1 \\ns slniHrm;^, he slo|>|)((l, ;md 
h>ok('d ill t'vt'i'v direction. Al'tci* cons iii(in<^" 
himscll* thnt there was no one in si<j;ht ol' lis, 
he a|)|H-oaehed iiie. Settin*;' the haskel (h>N\ii, 
he said, ''This will Lee|) inas'r alive ; hest I i;(>t/' 
III' liiined and was sikmi <»iit ol"sii;ht. The 
ra\en had eoine. The hasket e(Milained what 
those ne;^i'<K's eall hoe ealvi's. I ate a ;^"ood 
sn|)|)ei', and hiid m\se!l' d()wn t<» rest. I sU'pt 
the hest Ihat nii^lit I had lor months. Thi* 
next morning 1 lell rel'reshed. r]\ ervt hin«^' 
was still, and that w as sonu't hiiii^' new tome. 
The lood seemed t o st reiij^t hen me. I I'ell like 
a new man. The next dav, mv mind was oeen- 
|>ied with dillerent plans ( imeernini;" how I 
should eross the ri\er; hiit hel'ore mv plans 
were ( onsninmated, I dise(>\eie(l a steamer 
coming' n|» the river. It was eomin<;- vei'v 
slowly, and to all apix^arance was ont reeon- 
noitorin*^-. I eonld see that the nhii were 
seannin*^" the hanks ol* the ri\er. 1 was soon 
eonxinei'd that it was a Northern steamer. 
* 



Dr. JOHN MCGREGOR. 61 

The following lines had been running through 
my mind all that day. 

Lead, kindly Li,«:lit, amid the encircling gloom, 
Lead Thou me on ! 

The night is dark, and I am far from home ; 
Lead Thou me on ! 

Keep Thou my feet ! I do not care to see 
The former scenes ; () banish them from me ! 

As the steamer slowly moved up the river, 
something seemed to say, ^•^N'ow is the time for 
you to make an exertion." I at once began to 
do everything which I could to attract their 
attention. Soon I was overjoyed to see the 
steamer stop. I could see that they were low- 
ering a boat, and soon I saw them pulling for 
the shore. At first they thought that I was 
placed there as a decoy to entra]) them ; but 
after the captain had viewed me through his 
glass, he thought otherwise, and ordered his 
men to come and see what I wanted. I told 
those men that I had been a prisoner a long 
time, and wished to get once more within the 
Union lines. They took me to the steamer, 
and I once more stood l^eneath our starry 



62 LIFE AND DEEDS OF 

banner, free. 

I had come out of those loathsome prisons 
as people generally do who are imprisoned for 
conscience' sake, more devoted than ever to the 
cause for which I suffered. I was kindly 
received by all on board of the steamer, and 
everything done for me which could be done 
to make me comfortable. The captain, seeing 
my feeble condition, ordered all the officers 
and crew not to annoy me by asking questions. 
I told the captain my name, and that I was 
surgeon of the third Connecticut regiment. 
He told me that he had often heard me spoken 
of by many noted men. My filthy wardrobe 
was exchanged for one more comfortable and 
better adapted to my station. My hair was 
cut and I was thoroughly shampooed, and ere 
long I was on my way to Washington. 

As soon as I arrived in Washington, I was 
taken to a hotel and had a long interview with 
many of the dignitaries. Afterward I had an 
interview with the President and Secretary 
Stanton. At that time all the reliable infor- 
mation which could be gathered concerning the 
rebels' movements, was highly prized. I was 



Dr. JOHN MCGREGOR. 63 

constantly surrounded by reporters, but after 
I had given the President and Secretary Stan- 
ton all the information which I could concern- 
ing the South, I closed the doors upon the 
reporters. The newspaper men and the tele- 
graph companies were posting their patrons 
with all the news which they could glean from 
every source. It was not strange that the 
jjeople were anxious to learn all they could 
concerning the war, for there was hardly a 
family l)ut what had relatives in our army. 
Still it was very important to keep some of the 
information which was procured by our leading 
men concerning the rebels' movements out of 
the papers, for the rebels would, in spite of all 
we coidd do, get hold of our newspapers and 
be much benefited. 

Long before I i*eached Washington, the 
particulars of my escape were published in the 
papers and the telegraph wires had carried 
them to the remotest parts of the N^orth. My 
friends at Thompson and other places had 
heard the vibi-ations as the wires carried the 
glad tidings with lightning speed throughout 
the country. 



64 LIFE ANT> DEEDS OE 

As soon as Col. Corcoran heard that the 
doctor was once more in the land of the free, 
he hastened to meet him. They met at 
Washington, and such a meeting is not often 
seen. When first they met, they clasped hands 
and with bowed heads offered up thanks to 
God for their deliverance. For a long time 
neither could speak. Probably the trials and 
sufferings which they had endured together 
while in those Southern prisons, flashed 
through their minds. One of the party who 
came on with Col. Corcoran to escort the doc- 
tor to Xew York, said, ^'I have seen Corcoran 
when the chances for his life Avere not one 
in ten thousand, and where the earth was 
strewn with the dead and dying, but I never 
saw him affected as he was at that meeting." 
Corcoran and his party did everything in their 
power to make the journey from Washington 
to New York pleasant for the doctor. 

His stay in New York was very short, for 
he was very anxious to meet the loved ones at 
home. As he neared his home, no doubt his 
heart swelled with emotion, foi' there would be 



Dk. johk McGregor. 65 

a scene as trying to the nerves as any which 
he had passed throngh. It was his wish to 
retnrn in a very qniet manner. He delayed 
his coming on pnrpose to take his friends by 
snrprise. They expected him in the morning, 
bnt he did not come nntil evening. They were 
not disposed to have him snrprise them in his 
coming. When he arrived at Thompson depot, 
a carriage stood waiting to take him to his 
home. As they drove from the depot, he 
thonght his wish was to be granted. It was 
evening and qnite dark. He had qnestioned 
the driver on many ])oints, bnt the driver 
seemed dis])osed not to be very talkative. 
Afterwai'd he learned the reason why the 
driver was so mnte. As he entered the vil- 
lage, the bells in the steeples commenced 
ringing ont the glad tidings, and at the same 
moment many familiar voices broke the still- 
ness of the evening by singing one of his 
favorite hymns, ''Home again, home again.'' 
He then discovered that he was snrronnded by 
the village people, who had tnrned ont in a 
mass to receive him. He was then escorted 
to his home, the nuiltitnde dispersed in a qniet 



06 T.TFE AKD DEEDS OF 

manner, and lie was left to enjoy once more 
the presence of his family friends. He arrived 
home on Satnrday evening, Augnst 3d, 1862. 
The next day he escorted to church, to all 
appearance, one of the ha])])iest women on 
earth. The scene at the church after the 
services were closed, can hettei* be imagined 
than described. The congregation encircled 
him, and all were eager to press his hand once 
more. For days his home was thi-onged with 
friends from far and near, all anxious to hear 
him relate his experience while he was in those 
Southern prisons. 

At times he was almost afraid that he would 
become demented. His experience in the four- 
teen months seemed moi'e like a horrid di-eam 
than a i-eality; but as time passed on, his flesh 
and strength returned, his mind became moi'c 
clear, and he was ready to go at them again. 
He could not endure the hardshi])s of an army 
life, but he thought that he could yet do some- 
thing for his country. 

At this time the government was holding 
out great inducements to volunteers. It was 
reported that many of the negroes at the South 



Di{. JOH^" MCGREGOR. 67 

would volunteer if they could get to the North. 
Col. ]*^ichols and the doctor concluded to go 
to ^ew York, charter a steamer, take on board 
what pro\dsions they thought would be neces- 
sary to sup])ly the number of men which they 
calculated to bring from the South, and go 
to Hilton Head and try their luck, thinking 
that by so doing they might aid and assist our 
government. They carried out their contem- 
plated plans to the letter, except the main 
point ; they did not get the men. Unforeseen 
orders passed by the government soon after 
they left ^ew York, were the cause of their 
fiiilure to get the men. A full description of 
that voyage would be interesting to some, but 
I will mention only one incident, and then 
pass on. 

On the second day after leaving Hilton 
Head, the captain discovered a ship which 
acted rather strangely. As it came nearer, 
he also discovered that it was armed to the 
teeth. He at once ordered the engineer to 
make the best time which it was possible for 
him to do with safety. For four h(mrs the two 
vessels tried their skill in fast i-unning. They 



()8 TJFF, A XT) DKKDS OF 

could sec that the vessel was slowly gaining 
u|)on them. Soon a ^N^orthern shi]) was seen 
ahead of them. It proved to be an armed shi]), 
and a ship was never seen to change its conrse 
quicker than the one that was chasing them. 
The captain said that he had no douht it Avas 
a privateei'. 

They hinded at ^ew Yoi'k all safe and sound, 
but teri'ibly disappointed. The doctoi' had 
been disappointed so many times that it did 
not affect him as much as it w(mld some others. 
One object which they had in going after those 
negroes, was to avoid a draft whicli wonld be 
levied iijjon Connecticut unless the quota was 
raised l)y men vohmteering. 

A¥hat had his friends been doing all the 
time while he was a j)ris()uer? They had been 
(h)ing evei'ything in their ])owei* foi' his bene- 
Ht, but all their doings were of no avail. Every 
avenue through which they thought he could 
be reached was thoi'oughly closed. His wife 
and sistei' went to Washington and had an 
interview with President Lincoln and Secre- 
tary Stanton concerning what coui'se to take 
to have him released if he was alive. Stanton 



Dn. JOHN^ McG^REaOR. 69 

told them that there was l)ut one course for 
them to ])ursiie, and that was by exchange. 
They were willing to do any and everything 
which could be done for his release, or for his 
comfort. They gave his wife a writing author- 
izing her to select any one of the rebel othcers 
which the ^orth held as prisoners of war, and 
for her to take any course to accomplish an 
exchange. The rebels were approached in 
many ways, but to no purpose. They would 
not I'elease him under any circumstances. 

Dr. Hosford, an eminent physician, supplied 
his place as physician and surgeon while he 
was away; and as his health would not admit 
of his resuming his former practice after he 
returned, he was at liberty to do whatever lit- 
tle thing he coidd for his country. He s])oke 
in many different places, describing his tour at 
the South while he was a prisonei* in the rel)els' 
hands, and urging oar young men to stand 
firm for our country and to do whatever duty 
])resented itself to them. 

This narrative relative to his war recoi'd is 
in substance a true narrative, for I had it from 
his own lips. A great many othei- interesting 



70 T.TFE AND DEKDR OV 

things might be spoken of, l)iit for fear of 
wearying the rcnuler, I will cease writing abont 
the war and let the cnrtain droj) to slnit from 
our view those terrible scenes which the war 
produced. 

This life is something like the seasons of 
the year. To give a relish to this life we have 
Spring and Autumn, Summer and Winter. 
It is our adversities which make the pleasures 
of this life enjo3^able. We nuist have Winter 
to enjo}' S])ring. S])ring would be but divary 
weather if we had nothing elsc^ but Spring. 

I think that I am safe in saying that at this 
time he had a large number of Avarm and 
influential friends. After he had somewhat 
recovered his health, his friends in Wimlham 
County selected him for tlieir senator tore|)re- 
sent them in the State Legislature. He told 
his friends that it would be ])lacing him out of 
his sphere, and as he had no desire for the 
position, he would rather not accept. His 
friends argued that he was their choice, and 
ho])ed that he would not go contrary to their 
unanimous wish. After consulting upon the 
matter he acce])ted, and I think that his friends 



Dm. JOHN McaREaOE. 71 

had just cause to be proud of their senator. 
He was appointed as chairman on some of the 
most important committees, and his acts gave 
general satisfaction. His sayings and doings 
Avhile he was senator, gained him a reputation 
which any man should prize very highly. He 
did not desire to be in office, for that would 
])lace him out of his sphere. Surgery was his 
whole aim, and he could not be contented 
in doing anything else. Being so long in 
those Southern prisons had weakened his con- 
stitution and made terrible inroads upon his 
general health, so much so that he could not 
endui-e the long rides over the hilly country 
which sui'rounds Thompson. Consequently, 
he was obliged to seek a place where his 
])ractice would l)e confined to a smaller s])here. 
Providence had just lost her most noted 
surgeon. Dr. Miller had ]:)assed fi'om earth, 
and Khode Island moui'ued the loss. 

In July, 18()5, Di*. McGregor moved to 
Pi'ovidence, took rooms at the City Hotel, and 
o])ened an office at ol Dorrance street. He 
veiy soon commanded a large ])ractice in his 
])rofessi()n. His rc])utation as sui'gecm and 



72 TJFK AVD DF.KDS; OF 

])hysioiaii was ali'eady c'sta])lifslie(l. lie was 
now 44 years old. His ])i'a('tic(' was so exten- 
sive, and his snceess in liis operations so 
<>Teat, that lie did not i)i-oi)ose to lay down Ihe 
knile to any one in liliode Island. 

We ean review the ])asl and lia\'e some 
lvnowle(l<4"e ol'ihe present, hut we know not 
wliat the tntnre has in store lor ns. When 
everything h)oks prosperons and bright, when 
the morning /ephyi' phiys gently with the tiny 
flowers, and even when the midday snn shines 
in all its loveliness, we know not hnt a cyelone 
is forming beyond the hills, wliieh, before 
evening, will destro} all oni- li()j)es and blast 
all onr ])rospeets. How many there are who 
will say this is ti'ne! "A calm is t)(*ten followed 
by a storm,'' is the saying of mariners. When 
a nsel'nl man in the meridian of life, one who 
has always applied his talents in the right 
direction, is snddenly ent down, the whole 
eonntry moni-ns the loss. The next se(^ne, 
which I am i'a|)idly approaching, was too 
tragical and heart-rending to admit of a minnte 
descri|)tion withont lacerating the hearts of 
many, thereloic 1 will give only some of the 



DH. JOHN MCGREGOR. 73 

main facts and pass on to other scenes. 

The eventful 4th of ]N^ovember, 18(37, dawned 
n]3on the city of Providence in all its beanty. 
The bells chimed in harmony, and the. rever- 
berations sonnded through the streets. All 
the forenoon the doctor had been goi'iig from 
one sick-room to another, admmistering to his 
patients. I^oon came and he repaired to the 
City Hotel for dinner. Little did he think 
that it was to be his last meal on earth. His 
wife had left the city a few days previons to 
visit relatives and friends at Thompson. After 
dinner he again entered npon his duties. He 
was on his way to visit the Hon. Joseph M. 
Blake's daughter, who was very sick at that 
time. On driving down Dyer street, feeling 
perfectly safe, no doubt, the hind part of his 
chaise was struck by the cars, and he was 
thrown underneath and terribly mangled. He 
was immediately taken to his rooms at the City 
Hotel, and medical assistance summoned. It 
was found, on examination, that one of his 
arms was fearfully crushed, and that amputa- 
tion would be necessary. He was put under 
the influence of ether, and the operation com- 



74 LIFE AND DEEDS ()E 

mc'iu-ed. Hin piilno sank I'upidly, and it wns 
soon discovered that he would not sm-vivc the 
o|)e!*ation. When the hist sti'oke of the knife 
was finished, and the arm severed Iroin his 
hody, it was (ound that tlic innnorlal \r.\\'\ oi* 
Dr. Me(Ti'e<>-or liad ei-ossed the river oC (h'atli. 
His suii'ei*in<»"s, both ])hysieal and nicnlal, in 
this life liad been ^i-eat, hnl he had home them 
witli ('hristian foititnch-. Thus ended the hfe 
of Dr. dohn Me(ire<;<)r; and thus he passed 
fi'oni earth, h'avin^^- a name and memoi'v which 
will nevei' die. 

When the news flashed ovei* the coiniti'V, 
descrihin^- that tra<:^ical scene on Dyer street 
and that tei-i-il)le scene at the City Hotel, wiiere 
the o|)eiation was |)erfonned, and the endin<i^ 
ol' his hfe, there was a solemn thi'ill through- 
out the land. ^Fhe excitement in Pi'ovidence, 
and es])ecially at the Hotel, was intense. It 
seemed so strange that aftei* he had been 
exposed to the many dang*ers of t he haltle field, 
and to the fever and the famine which envel- 
oped those Southei-n ])i*isons, and his life had 
been s))ared, he should be saci'ificed in a city 
where ])eo|>le shoidd be pi'otected against such 



T>R. JOHN MCGREGOR. 75 

calamities. There are many things which 
liappen to which our feeble minds cannot be 
reconciled; and that is one of the cases where 
some minds are still unreconciled. We believe 
that he is now at rest. We know that the 
clamor of war cannot reach his ears, and we 
know that the fever and famine will not have 
to be endured. 

The scene at the Hotel, when Mrs. McGregor 
arrived and found that her husband was dead, 
I will not attempt to describe, for the English 
language is inadequate to describe such a 
heart-rending scene. Foi* days the Hotel was 
thronged with sympathizing friends, all more 
than willing to aid and assist in any way which 
they could to alleviate the sorrow and suffering 
of the widow and relatives, and to watch over 
and prepare the dead for burial. 

On the 10th, his remains were carefully 
removed from the City Hotel to the Beneficent 
Congregational Church, where Kev. James G. 
Vose preached the following discourse occa- 
sioned bv the death of Dr. John McGregor. 



DISCOURSE. 



'^Dtity amid Danger. ^^ 



My flays are swifter than a post : they flee away : they see no 
o-ood. They are passed away as the swift ships ; as the eagle 
that hasteth to the prey. 

Job ix : 25. 

This Utterance of the patriai-eh has been 
imi3ressecl on my mind from early childhood. 
Something in the qnaintness of phrase attracted 
my attention, and fixed the words npon my 
memory from the first hearing. In the whok^ 
poem there is a richness and variety of meta- 
phor which strike the ear of the most careless, 
and hannt lis like a strain of melody. In the 
lines before ns, we have three fignres to denote 
the shortness of life. Hie first is that of a 



78 FUXKHAL Drs(H)rKSE ^^Y 

I'idc'i", who lu'ars tidings, and lli()n<;h tjic i-ajnd- 
ity of oui- sloani and telegi'a])h lines seems to 
east a satire ni)on the ])ost i iding, whatever it 
were, of that early age; yet the eoming and 
departing of sneh a messengei' is an apt symbol 
of the horseman. Death, who ai)])ears across 
the ])hnns as a dim s])eek, and is npon ns 
before we fairly desery his garments. "My 
days are swifter than a ])ost, '-' ''^ *^ they 
are passed away as the swift ships." Here 
also, the impression made ni)on the imagination 
is not so nnich of absohite s])eed, as of sti'ange 
and unaceonntal)le disappeai'anee. The imag- 
ination is not aifeeted by mere nnmbers. We 
know how fast light travels from the snn and 
from the fixed stars, bnt this does not imi)i-ess 
ns, as may some sim])le every day faet. He, 
who fi'om some overlooking height, has gazed 
dreamily ont on the oeean, on a still snnnnei' 
afternocm; and has seen a elnster of white 
winged ships, fresh fi-eighted and ti'immed for a 
foreign port, quietly droi)]jing down the harbor, 
or steering their eonrse ont of the islands 
toward the nnsheltered main, — he, who thns 
crazinir has tnrned his eve foi* a moment to tlie 



RF.V. JAMES Cf. VOSE. 79 

heavens or to the distant city, or lost in thought, 
has forgotten, for a time, the objects before him, 
when he looks again, is startled to find that the 
ships have vanished, or perhaps he can just 
descry their masts sinking every moment below 
the hoi'izon. Such an one, I say, will compre- 
hend the figure of the sacred poet. " They are 
passed away as the swift ships." It is not the 
rapidity of theii* motion, l^ut the suddenness of 
their disappearance that affects us. They may 
have seemed to loiter and almost be motionless, 
but the returning eye searches for them in 
vain. It sweeps the hoi-izon o'er and o'er, but 
they are no more seen. ''My days are swifter 
than a post: they are passed away as the swift 
ships; as the eagle tliat hasteth to the prey.'' 
The keen vision of the eagle, who looks with 
unblenched gaze at tlic sun, and liis swift 
llight ai-e facts well knoAvn. Here too we see 
that among a pastoral ])eo])le the unlooked foi- 
attack u])on their flocks would be a fit image 
of all sudden events. In all these figures, the 
idea is not of absolute swiftness, but of sudden 
and unexpected departure. Even so life 
passes. It may seem to linger, and often it is 



80 fu:n^eral dtscoitkse by 

wearisome. Job wished for the grave, and 
longed to hide himself in its bosom; bnt look- 
ing at the past his days seemed to have van- 
ished nnawares. 

The uncertainty of life is im])ressed u])on ns, 
with every advancing month. Strange and 
nnlooked for events set at naught all our 
planning, and give new truth to the Spanish 
proverb, ''Xothing is certain but the unfore- 
seen." During the cui'rent yeai% in a general 
condition of great health and quietness, we 
have been called, in this city, to witness many 
striking and sad events that have revived in 
my thought continually the sublime imagery 
of the sacred writer. ''My days are swifter 
than a post, they are passed away as the swift 
ships." 

I wish to draw no lesson of terror or dismay 
from these sad events, but to lead you rather 
to consider the claims of the present. My 
theme is this, that duty is not diminisliecl hy 
uncertainty, 

I. There is a duty to guard against sick- 
ness and accident. I ])lace duty to self first, 
because it is God's claim. We may fulfil dutv 



REV. JAMES G. VOSE. 81 

to self without being selfish. We should love 
ourselves, because God loves us. Many men 
are deficient in self love. All the herd of 
gluttons, drunkards, abusers of the body hj 
excess, are destitute of a right love of self. 
They have no self-respect, no faith in their 
high endowments or capacities, no sense of the 
honor God has put on them, nor of the sacri- 
fice Christ has made that they might be saved. 
But others love themselves too little, who are 
not contained in any such class as these. Men 
and women there are, who throw away life foi- 
money or for fashion, or for false appearances. 
There are multitudes whose habits of life, of 
dress, of dail}^ employment are injurious to 
health and fatal to long life. Many expose 
themselves for amusement's sake, as othei's 
with equal or even greater folly do it for gain. 
^ow it is no answer to all this to say, that Ave 
cannot tell what will harm, oi- what will benefit 
us, that we are liable to so many diseases and 
troubles that we may as well disregard them 
all. We knoAV that there are certain laws of 
temperance and regularity which cannot be 
disregarded with impunity. We shall suffer 



S^ FrXKKAL T>TSr()l^KSR BY 

for their iieo'lect. At all events we shall fall 
under the displeasui-e of God. If we had 
received from a friend a musieal instrument of 
rai'e beauty and woi-kmanshi]), and were told 
that it needed careful handling-, that its strings 
would sulfei' fi'om moist ui-e and from sudden 
cold oi' heat, that it nuist not he shaken or 
jarred, oi* its notes struck violently or by an 
unskilled hand, we should certainly be very 
ungrateful and foolish to disregard these 
warnings. To be sure the fire may burn 
it, or some malicious or careless hand may 
destroy it, in spite of all our j^recautions, but 
shall we therefore neglect it altogethei*? We 
have received from God an instiunneut of moiv 
curious mechanism, than man can devise, and 
with good handling it may outlast most of the 
ordinai'y inventions of man. It may be con- 
tinued to us seventy oi* eighty years. Because 
life is uncertain, because a thousand accidents 
and diseases surround us at all ages, shall we 
therefore neglect all bodily cai'c and foi-e- 
t bought? 

You think ])erhaps this advice is needless. 
Men do take thought for their bodies. Manv 



BEV. JAMES Ci. VOSE. 83 

of you are anxious and troubled on account of 
some little ailment. You lie awake and are 
restless with apprehension, because of some 
slight pain, or some anticipated evil. You 
hear of some disease that has alFected a neio:li- 
bor or caused his death, and you imagine it 
may be that you have symptoms of the same, 
and yet you yourself have been and are, per- 
haps, neglectful of the commonest i-ules of 
bodily health. N^either your food, your sleep, 
nor your exercise are guided by a sense of 
duty to God. You forget that God will call 
you to account for your body as well as for 
your soul. You forget that in addition to the 
pains and sickness 1:)rought on by wrong 
doing, men will also have to answer for the 
sin of abusing God's handiwork. Admit that 
with our ]:)est precautions we cannot escape 
suffering and danger, should we not the more 
earnestly seek in all right ways to avoid all 
needless harm and loss? 

The same thing is true in reference to acci- 
dent by the elements or the works of man. We 
cannot stay the thunderbolt nor the earth- 
quake, but we can avert the lightning from 



84 FI^XKKAL DIRCOin^vSE BY 

oiii" {Iwc'lHiigs ])y the siiu|)lc' contrivance of 
Franklin. We can avoid needU\^s dang-er. 
We can avoid i-eekless exposure. Yet how 
often is this duty forgotten! Men huild rail- 
I'oads and run them without regard ior human 
life. Through the streets of a populous eity, 
or on even grade, across a ti'avelled road, it 
makes little difference where, if there is money 
to he made. Traffic takes little note of life or 
liml). And there is too much indifference to 
the fearful anguish that may result from s(mie 
false or unexpected movement. The ii'on 
wheels that bear such ])rodigi(ms weight, may 
now and then go over a human heart, and 
(*rush the life out from othei' kindred hearts; 
and what amount of money, or business 
accommodation ]mt into the o])]x)site scale 
will balance that loss and anguish? The 
uncertainties of life relieve us fi'om no caution 
public or ])rivate — they rather increase and 
force u])on us the duty, both foi* ourselves and 
others, of obeying the rules of ])rudence, of 
temperance, of care, and circums])ection, that 
we may not throw away the life which God 
has bestowed. Is it not a plain duty of all 



REV. JAMES Q. VOSE. 85 

,2:ood governments and good citizens to see to 
it, that the lives of our fellowmen are not 
endangered by steam engines, and factories 
erected in dangerous places, by explosions in 
crowded streets, — l)y yielding to traffic and 
convenience all the claims that belong to the 
sacredness of life? Rhode Island has abol- 
ished capital punishment. She is too tender 
hearted to put to death even the worst of 
criminals. Shall we not make better laws for 
the safety of our citizens, as they walk or ride 
along our streets at midday? Is it not a 
solemn duty to secure our friends and our 
children, by all possible means, from such sad 
catastrophies? Of the numerous inventions 
of the present day to facilitate trade, or to 
improve the style and comfort of living, 
almost every one tends also to endanger or to 
shoiten life; and we need the greatest care, by 
])ublic laws, and l)y ]3rivate efforts to defend 
ourselves and others from harm. It is the 
lioast of our age, that human life is regarded 
as moi-e sacred than it ever was before. And 
yet the most inhuman l)utcheries oc^cui- on 
railroads and steamboats, and within our cities 



86 Fl-XERAL DI>C OrR>K BY 

aliiK^st every week, and are passed over as 
blameless accidents. God will call ns to 
acconnt. as men and citizens, for the reckless- 
ness and inditierence that snffer so many ])re- 
cions lives to be destroyed. 

II. And now I come, secondly, to a very 
different point presented by this theme, viz: 
That it is onr dnty to enconnter dangers joy- 
fnlly. when a real good is to be gained. Dnty 
remains amid uncertainty. And Avhen there 
is a substantial o-ood to he 2'ained. or wlu^n 
there is a fair hope of attaining it. we may 
rightlv enconnter dana'er. Men must enconn- 
ter danger in the ordinary pursuits of business. 
They must travel over land and sea. They 
must rtm the risks of tire, of machinery, of the 
varicnis tools and implements which they have 
in tise. While these risks ona'ht to be under 
tar more strict regulation, they still must b^' 
bravely met. If men accept the industines 
which God sets before them, in a (Tod-fearing 
manner, they have a right to trnst his ]3rotec- 
tion. If they are not carried away by love of 
gold, or fool-hardiness, then tlu^y may regard 
dan2:er as encountered in obedience to Him. 



REV. JAMES a. VOSE. 87 

And in many cases in life, God does plainly 
command us to advance in the very face of 
danger. We are called to expose ourselves 
for the sake of our friends and children. To 
save their lives we must willingly risk our 
own. Xay, sometimes for strangers or ene- 
mies, even, we ought to encounter peril to 
relieve them. Xo true hearted man mil see 
the sick or wounded suffer and die, when he 
can afford them help, although the furnishing 
of that help may incur the danger of disease 
to himself. When a contagious disease breaks 
out in city or country, some friend must min- 
ister to the sufferer. There is responsibility 
somewhere to furnish aid and nursing and 
medical skill. There is a duty higher than 
that of self-preservation. And this is recog- 
nized, thank God! Human nature, corrupt 
and imperfect as it is, still recognizes the duty 
of mutual help. And many a timid woman, 
and many a generous boy, and many a ])oor 
sailor, even, will forget all thought of self, and 
spring to the side of the suffering, when there 
is the least ho])e of rescuing or comforting 
them in their distress. 



SS FrXERAL DISCO tKSE T^V 

At times, it is the highest duty to forget all 
fear. ISTay, at times it is the highest safety, 
also. For, ii) cities, where the pestilence has 
laged, or where the yelloAV fever has swept off 
thousands, it is found that those Avho have been 
most generous and sympathizing, — the faithful 
physician, the attentive nurse, the sister of 
mei'cy, — have been protected of (lod thi'ough 
all dangers, while the cowei'ing fugitive, or the 
selfish neglecter of the suffering, has fallen a 
victim. It is (rod's command tlint we live in 
this world for high objects, and that these 
should always rise above mere personal safety 
or comfort. This does not conflict with the 
claims of our own body and soul, for the chief 
motive why these should be sui)ported, is that 
they may be usefid in God's sight. It is not 
easy to draw any distinct line for all cases, but 
he who studies the charactei- of C^hrist and the 
example of all noble, useful luen in the world, 
will learn how to fulfdl duty to self and duty 
to others, at the same time. 

In the breaking out of our wai", our young- 
men learned this lesson — I think I may say 
all classes of society learned it. Men and 



KEV. JAMES (I. VOSE. 89 

women, joiiiig and old; all professions and all 
ages, leai'ned it. N^one more certainly than 
onr physicians, who ottered themselves read- 
ily to care for the sick and wonnded, and to 
g'o with them to prison or to death. And thns 
it is sometimes, in life,-^ — the greater the dan- 
gei', the greater the dnty. If it be a plain 
dnty, if God commands, and love and honor 
light the way, then danger and peril only 
increase the ol)ligation, as they increase the 
honor. 

III. I come, therefore, thirdly, to remark 
that amid all the nncertainties of this life, it is 
still onr dnty to remember the ol^ligations dne 
to the ])resent. AVe possess only the present. 
Otu' spliere of action, our power of control 
u|)on ourselves and others is limited. The 
good act will, indeed sweep onward in waves of 
influence, but the pebble we cast must be cast 
into tlie i)reseut, if at all. The questicm for us 
is not what shall be on the morrow, not where 
we shall be, nor whei'c shall be our neighbor or 
child, but what we may do to-day, to comfoit 
and bless theui. We need a more child-like 
spirit, that we may thank God for the gifts of 



90 rUXERAL r>TSCOUKSE BY 

the present, that we may enjoy them tranquilly, 
and im])ait them with a child's sweetness to 
others. The present comfort and health of our 
household and those committed to our care, 
involve ample duties, which must for the 
greater part of the time engross us. It is of 
vast importance that we live lives of kindness, 
of tenderness and self-denial, that we make 
home happy by the radiance of a cheerful and 
contented spirit. Grief and trouble will come 
soon enough. Let us not cloud the ])resent 
simshine, let us not fret and repine because of 
coming ill. Terrible events are about us; let 
us yield them the tear of sympathy, but let us 
not be too much cast down. For God calls us 
to make others happy and to point their eyes 
to the spot of sunshine on the distant hills. 
A life of gentle faith, of silent endurance, is 
pleasing in the sight of God. What though 
the darkness lowers, the gracious God i.-^ 
behind it. I have heard aged people describe 
the dark day, which occurred in 1780. The 
darkness was so great, that all ordinary 
business was suspended. The cattle came 
home from the ])asture; the fowls sought their 



REV. JAMES a. VOSE. 91 

nightly perch; lamps were lighted at midday, 
and men's faces wore the look of terror and 
dismay. At that time the Connecticut Assem- 
hly was sitting, and some proposed that they 
should adjourn, for the day of judgment was 
coming; but one of the members, stern old 
Abraham Davenport, declared that, if the end 
of the world were come, they could he found 
in no l)etter place than at their post of duty. 
And Whittier describes him in his fine lines, 
as saying — 

Tliis well may he the day of jiidiiment which the world awaits. 

But be it so or not, I only know 

My present duty, and my Lord's command 

To occupy till he come. 
And therefore with all reverence will I say, 
Let God do His work, we will see to ours. 

Thus should we remember, friends, our obli- 
gations to the present. God has set us in our 
])ost of duty to live hiunbly, patiently and lov- 
ingly, remembering the happiness of all who 
are about us. There has always been, to my 
mind, a strong a priori argument against those 
who attempt to show from prophecy when the 
end of the world will be, that the whole s])i]"it 



92 FUl^ERAL DISCOURSE BY 

of the Bible commands iis to fulfill present 
duty. And it would be contrary to the whole 
spirit of faith and duty, that God should reveal 
the future. -^Secret things belong unto the 
Lord our God, but those which are revealed 
belong unto us and to our childi-en, that we 
may do the works of this law.'' We must 
remember, then, our obligations to the present. 
It is well to live by the day, not laying too 
many plans for this life, not over conhdent of 
anything concei'uing it, but anxious that the 
present time be well and wisely employed. 

Men sometimes say, in hollow phrase, that 
we ought to live each day as if it were the last. 
Such a life would be miserable and useless. If 
you knew this to be your last day, you woukl 
spend it in fai'e wells to your friends, and in 
closing up the business of life. But you do 
not know it to be jowr last day. What then? 
Let us use it wisely. Be sure it will be the 
last day to some. In this city one thousand 
persons die a year, an average of three a day. 
Very rarely does a day pass but it is the last 
for some one, who had found a home here. 
They die by accident or disease, by many 



KEV. JAMPJS a. VOSE. 93 

dreaded or luidreaded ways. It will do us no 
harm to think of it sometimes, — "To smell to 
a fresh turf," says Thomas Fuller, "is whole- 
some to the body, — even so the thoughts of 
mortality are healthful to the soul." How, 
then, shall I use this thought? I will be 
kindly, humble, true to every man I meet in 
business or social life. I will be gentle and 
patient in the house and in the shop. I will 
make life easier and better for friends and 
children. Above all, I will be true to the 
soul's need, and remember that to-day is all 
we are sure of to prepare for heaven. I will, 
therefore, take all fitting times to impress 
religious truth upon the souls of men, that, if 
that strange lot which is cast every day for 
one or more of the dwellers of this city, 
should fall among my family, or within my 
circle of influence, I may rejoice that the duty 
of the day has been well d(me. It is not for 
m? to forebode disaster or trouble, but to 
leave all in the hands of God, who will cause 
all things to work together for good to those 
that love Him. The simplicity of such a life 
is well expressed in a German hymn, which I 



94 fu:n^eral discoitrse by 

love to remember: 

My God, I know not when I die, 
What is the moment, or the hour, 
How soon the clay may l)roken lie, 
How quickly pass away the flower; 
Then may thy child prepared be 
Thro' time to meet eternity. 

My God, I know not hoi') I die, 
For death has many ways to come, 
In dark, mysterious ai»ony. 
Or ifently as a sleep, to some. 
Just as thou wilt, if but I be 
Forever blessed, Lord, with Thee. 

My God, I know not vjhpre I die, 

Where is my grave, beneath what strand. 

Yet, from its gloom, I do rely 

To be delivered by thy hand. 

Content I take what spot is mine. 

Since all the earth, my Lord, is Thine. 

My gracious God, when I must die. 
Oh ! bear my happy soul above, 
Witli Christ, my Lord, eternally 
To share thy glory and thy love ! 
Then comes it right and well to me. 
When, where and how my death shall be. 

Sudden deaths, dear friends, have multiplied 
among us of late. Among' publie and private 



REV. JAMES G. VOSE. 95 

men, these strang'e and shocking events have 
been of freqnent occnrrenee. Such events 
sound strangely amid the excitements and 
business of this present Hfe. In the strife of 
elections, in the whirl of trafRc and of pleasui-e, 
the coming of death terrifies us, like a peal of 
thunder. God doubtless sends these shocks 
to startle men in their selfishness, and to teach 
them the vanity of earthly things. But this is 
but ])art- of the lesson. It is not to hinder 
the proper pursuits of hfe, it is not to paralyze 
the arm that is uphfted in manly struggle. It 
is rather to lu'ge men to fulfill every duty as in 
the sight of God. It is to press upon them the 
sacredness of life, and the worth of every 
momcMit. Great duties and small must l)e 
attended to now, or else forever abandoned. 
'^Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it 
with thy might, for there is no work, nor 
device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the 
grave whither thou goest." Too late, then, to 
seek the forgiveness of God, too hite to seek 
the 1'orgiveness of man, too late, also, to for- 
give, if we have cherished animosities, or to 
si)eak the word of tenderness and love, where 



96 FUN^ERAL DISCOURSE BY 

we have offended. Too late to recall the harsh 
and bitter speech, too late to do the act of self- 
denial for friends or children, or to l^estow the 
gifts of charity on the starving or distressed. 
''He that is faithful, in that which is least, is 
faithful also in much.'' There is a prayer in 
the litui'gy to be delivered from sudden death. 
I am told that in T^ewman Halfs chapel in 
London, where the liturgy is used in modified 
form, that i)rayer is rendei-ed, ''From sudden 
and un])repared death. Good Lord, deliver 
us.'' I take it this is the meaning of the 
prayer, and well for us, however and when- 
ever death comes, if only we be found ready. 

And now I will say a word in respect to the 
sad death of one of our own congregation, 
which has deeply affected this community. 
He has disappeared from our sight as in a 
moment. As a plummet sinks in the mighty 
waters, so has he vanished from our view in 
the ocean of eternity. Last Sabbath, in all the 
vigor of manly strength, with the hope of years 
of active labor and usefulness before him; — 
to-day, sleeping in his nari-ow bed. Di*. John 



KEV. JAMES a. VOSE. 97 

McGregor was born in Coventry, R. I. After 
his early edncation, he engaged in teaching 
school for a time, before entering nj)on his 
professional career. It was here, while just 
deciding upon the course of his future life, 
that his religious impressions became fixed 
and positive. Thoughtfully and with full 
purpose of heart, he gave himself to the Lord 
Jesus Christ. We have delightful evidence 
of the power of this change in the testimony 
of oui" own Sabbath School Superintendent, 
who was at that time his pupil. When the 
youthful teacher became a Christian, he deemed 
it his plain duty to inform his scholars of his 
new found faith, and not quailing before a trial 
which has often been found harder than to 
face the perils of battle, he summoned them 
around him, to begin their daily studies with 
prayei- to God. His Christian character, 
borne witness to by those who have known 
him through a long life, was ever of this faith- 
ful type. He was a man of simple integrity, a 
man who never thought of turning aside from 
duty, however dithcult. 

As a professional man, there is a])undant 



(I!4 



)S FLTXERAL DTSC^Ol RSK BY 

and distinct evidence of liis high attainments 
and success. In the State of Connecticut and 
in the county of Windham, where he i-esided 
he l^ecanie well and favorably known, at a veiy 
early period in his pi-actice. He was si)ecially 
distinguished as a surgeon, and some I'emark- 
able cases, in which he was called, bear witness 
alike to his skill and his fidelity. Some of 
these have record in tlie scientific joui'uals, 
and othei's are fondly cherished in the memoiy 
of grateful and admiring friends. A long 
account was given me last winter ])y a friend, 
of an extraordinary case of surgeiy i)erformed 
])y him, not only with marvelous skill and suc- 
cess, but with a fidelity and tenderness, wholly 
untainted l)y hope of reward. 

And here let me bear witness, in honor of 
a i)i'ofession for which I have the pi'ofoundest 
respect, that it does include, and has ever 
included, some of the most self-denying, most 
honorable and liigh minded men, that the world 
has ever seen. Among its i-anks, there is less 
of soi-didness, and fai-moi-e of kindly, generous 
feeling, than in the ordinary walks of life. Of 
coui-se thei-e ai'c i)ainfnl exceptions. Bnt I 



REV. JAMES a. VOSE. 99 

speak now of what seems to be the tendency 
and inflnenee of this ennobling profession. 
""•Able, cautions and experienced physicians," 
says Martin Luther, ^-are the gifts of God. 
They are the ministers of nature, to whom 
hmnan hfe is confided. ]S"o physician should 
take a single step, but in humility and the fear 
of God; they who are without the fear of God, 
are mere homicides." 

Dr. McGregor was an example, worthy of 
his class. He never i-efused the cry of pov- 
erty, nor ministered with any the less care or 
assiduity in the homes of the poor and friend- 
less. Blessed with a strong body and a tran- 
quil mind, he was well endowed by nature for 
his arduous task, and in the early part of his 
life, when in full health, he traveled far and 
near, in his country district, to attend upon 
the suffering. There are many living to-day 
who remember with gratitude his faithful 
attentions. Some whose lives were saved, and 
others whose troubles were cured or assuaged, 
will learn with sincere sorrow of his ])ainful 
death. 

Trulv are fulfilled in him tlu^ sweet woi-ds of 



100 FUNI^MJAL J)IS('(HIKSK \\Y 

the poet. 

" How many a i^oor man's bU'ssin,^ went 
Willi liiiH l)('iu'atli tlie low ixvovn ti'iil , 
Whoso curtain never outward swings!" 

or his military cnrcci', I cniinot spcjik at 
<j;'r('al IiMi<^lh, iioi' is there any need. 41u* main 
faets are too impi'essive to (h-mand the achlilion 
ofcU'tails. With tlie 1)reakin<4" ont ol'the rebel- 
lion, he deemed it his duty to otler his serviees 
to the government. He regarded his skill and 
ex])erienee as justly claimed by his eonntiy- 
men, and he went ont in one of the earliest 
regiments, whieh went foi'ward to theeonlliet. 
It was the third (yonn. Vol., a thi-ee months 
regiment, bnt not I'oi' him a thi'ee months cam- 
paign. In the disastrous batth' of Bull Run, 
whieh lell like a erushing weight on every true 
freeman's heai't, our friend w^as taken ])i'isoner. 
It is distinctly testilied, that this was owing to 
his tirin detei'mination not to forsake his men. 
He kncAV that ncme Avould care (or the si(dv and 
wounded as he could do it, and he wonld not 
leave them, and therefore he went vohmtai'ily 
to an imi)risonment, which was worse than 



REV. JAMES a. VOSE. 101 

death. From prison to prison he followed his 
suliering eomi*ades, until so emaciated that his 
manly frame was reduced to half its usual 
weight. Dear friends, these scenes must not 
be dwelt on. They are too bitter and too 
2)ainful. 

After remaining on the l^attle field seven- 
teen days ; on any one of which he might have 
escaped, had he been willing to desert his sick 
and dying comrades; he was taken to Rich- 
mond, and thence after a short time i-emoved 
to Castle Pinckney. Afterwards he was 
removed to Charleston Jail, where he suffered 
incredible anguish from sickness and privation. 
During this time a great fire occurred, and the 
walls of the ])rison were heated through and 
its dark cells lighted up by the flame. The 
poor prisoners locked in and guarded as they 
were, viewed death inevitable. But the confla- 
gration was stayed, and our friend who had 
endured such tortures of mind and body, was 
carried to Columbia, to Salisbury, and again 
to Richmond, from whence he was at lengtli 
released. In these thirteen months of his 
captivity, lie saw and felt as uiuch of the 



102 PtlNERAL DISC OURSE BY 

agony and ei-uelty of our civil war, as any man 
perhaps eonld be able to see and live. 

Bnt it is sweet to think, that this faithful 
surgeon comforted so many of the suffering, 
saved the lives and relieved tlie distresses of 
so many. 

This was his I'cward, this the joy and solace 
of his ]:>ersonal sacrifices. In looking back 
upon these anguished days, he never regretted 
the course he had taken, nor esteemed it other 
than an honor and a pi'ivilege, that he Avas 
counted worthy to sutfei' in so great a cause. 
N^o man ever heard a boastful nari*ative from 
him of these troubled days, nor would his nat- 
ural modesty suffer any but a little circle of 
familiar friends to draw from him the history 
of his army life. Many who met him on our 
streets or i-eceived him into their houses, had 
little thought that he deserved a place high on 
the roll of those who were ready to give life, 
and more than life for the salvation of tlieir 
country. 

We claim him to-day as our brother in tins 
church, for although his name is not on our 
list, yet he had expressed his intention of uni- 



REV. JAMES a. VOSE. 103 

ting" with us, and I hold m my possesion the 
letter which he brought from the church, in 
his former home, cordially commending him, 
to us, as a brother faithful and beloved. 

As it was beautifully said, at our prayer 
meeting last Tuesday evening, the hands of 
this church fellowship were soon to have been 
raised in welcome to this newly admitted mem- 
ber. But already the hands of angels and the 
spirits of tlie just have wafted him a sweeter 
and a purer welcome, to the church of the first 
born, whose names are written in heaven. 

It was, indeed, a most sad and melancholy 
catastrophe, by which he was snatched away 
from earth. I wish not at this time, to make 
any harsh or criminating charges against indi- 
viduals, but certainly there is blame somewhere. 
The life that God Rad spared through such 
terrible cruelties, and amid all the perils of 
war, — ought not to have been poured out on 
the altar of traffic, ought not to have been 
destroyed by a miserable system of i-ailroad 
management. May it be a warning that may 
lead to better and safer ways of answering the 
claims of business, and providing for the trans- 



104 FIXEKAL DISC'Ol RSE BY 

j)()rtati()ii ot* <^-()()(ls. ''I can civate' a thoiisaiul 
noblemen, in a da},'' said the king- of France, 
''bnt I cannot make one philosopher." So may 
Ave say in oiu- age, — we can make and trans- 
port innumerable bales of merchandise, but we 
cannot restore the life of a noble citizen, which 
is worth them all. Xo wonder that the deso- 
late and -l)ei-eaved heart cannot look, save with 
uncontrolled anguish, upon so dreadful an 
event. It is not in human nature to regard it 
calmly. And if the spirit rises against the 
thought, as if unwilling to admit it, I know 
there is love and patience in the heart of God. 
I remember that when our Divine Master 
met the weeping Mary at Bethany, and she 
reproached him, saying — "Lord, if thouhadst 
been here, my brother had not died,'' — he 
made no answer, but only gi-oaned in s])irit. 
Such is the sympathy, even now, which Jesus 
has for every suffering soul. 

But let us tuim our eyes to the glorious 
record of the faithful. Let us behold this 
noble martyr crowned among those who have 
served God faithfully to the end. It was not 
ordered of a wise Providence that he should 



REV. JAMES a. VOSE. 105 

die amid the many perils of the war. He 
escaped them ahnost as by a miracle. The 
shield of the Almighty was over him, in the 
day of conflict. His spirit went not np in the 
shont and smoke of battle. JSTor did he die 
with those who sank away in the hospital or 
in the stockade. What a mockery npon 
hnman foresight, do the circnmstances of his 
death aftbrd ns! Here, in onr peacefnl city, 
pnrsuing the ronnds of his benign art, he 
meets the death, which seemed nnable to find 
him when clothed with all the jDi^noply of war. 
He was separated for a little time from those 
brave hei-oes, whom he nnrsed and comforted 
in their dying honi's. Bnt he is none the less 
a martyr in the canse of hnmanit}^ And in 
the records of heaven, his name will be treas- 
nred among those who have sacrificed their all 
for their nation and for God. 



SERVICES AT PHENIX 



After the services at the church were over, 
the funeral tram left Provideuce for Phenix. 
At Phenix, the people received his remains as 
their own. They said, "He comes back to us, 
his work finished." It was the desire of Mr. 
William C. Ames and family that the remains 
of Dr. McGregor should he taken to his house, 
and there rest until the next day, when there 
would be services at the Methodist Episcoj^^al 
Church, previous to burial. 

On November 11th, Rev. Mr. Westgate, 
assisted by Pev. Mr. Tallman of Thompson 
and Rev. Mr. Shepard, preached a very instruct- 
ive discourse. After the services, his i*emains 



108 THE DOCTOR^S 

were removed to the tomb at Greenwood Cem- 
etery. At last, the earthly journey was ovei*. 
There, snrronnded by his weeping - relatives 
and friends, he was carefully laid away to sleep, 
after his work was done. And the widow fol- 
lowed her fond hnsband to his last earthly 
resting plaee, and, in his grave, buried her 
hopes of happiness here, and retnrned comfort- 
less to her desolate home. 

On a lofty eminence overlooking Phenix, 
and many other villages for miles ai-ound, 
stands a massive monnment denoting the 
bnrial place of Dr. John McGregor. This 
monnment will stand as long as the stars, like 
angels' eyes, tlirongh the clear skv so beauti- 
fully bright, look down n])on this city of the 
dead ; or the crescent moon sheds its pale light 
o'er these graves, as it sinks behind the western 
hills; or the hi'st rays of the morning sun form 
the dew drops npon this monnment into tears, 
and scatter them upon the grave beneath. It 
will stand nntil all the graves on the land, the 
catacombs of the east, and all the seas, are 
called npon to give up the dead. Then, and 
not nntil then, will the monnments of genins 



MOXITMEXT. 109 

and the arts fall alike, and mingle with the 
fragments of fallen grand enr. 

The knowledge of events, and the state of 
things in times past, have been commnnicated 
to ns by inscriptions fonnd npon visible monn- 
ments. Thns we find that when the Hebrews 
crossed the Joi'dan to invade the land of 
Canaan, they set np a heap of twelve stones 
to eommemoi'ate the event. A vast nnmber 
of inscriptions have been gathered from the 
mass of ancient ruins. Of these, the following 
ai'e among the most interesting: the inscri]jtion 
upon the pedestal of the Rostral Column of 
Kome; the inscription on the tombstone of the 
Scipios; the inscription of Zeus; the inscrip- 
tion termed ''The Decree.'' This decree was 
engraved in three different characters. A 
histoi-y lost to the world has been recovered 
by this means. Thus you see the importance 
of leaving our history u])on granite oi- marble. 
It will aid those in the future, in making up 
the history of the present. 

That voice to wdiich we have so often lis- 
tened with earnest attention, is hushed forever. 
The country is not unmindful of his renown, or 



110 

imgrateful for his services. We pause to weep 
at his toml). Men die, Imt their words are left 
on record; their works remain; their exam])le 
survives. He who makes a record Hke the 
one I am reviewing, he who has achieved a 
character hke that which I now hokl up to the 
youths of our country, may Avell say when the 
supreme liour arrives, ''I am ready." While 
the wind sighs through the trees which shadow 
his grave, and the lairds sing their sweet songs 
at the close of day, let us all rememher that 
we too must ere long close our earthly career, 
and liegin our lives in eternity. May our i-ec- 
ord be such that our posterity can look upon 
it, and ti-nly say, ''We are proud of oui* ances- 
tors." 



IN MEMORIAM. 

Dr. JOHN McGregor. 

Returned from prison An.onst 3d, 18G2; departed this life 
November 4th, 1867. 



In early mornin<>' 

We watched for his comino", 

Ere the first beams of day 

Chased the black night away. 

Fearfully, tearfully, 

Under the maple tree. 

In thickest dark 

We watched for his comin.o*. 

Heavy the mist 

Of the mid August morning. 

Chilly and clammy 

It rose from the valley ; 

A sombre pall unfurled 

Over a prostrate world, 

Shrouding earth, air and sky 

In blackest mystery. 

Filling our eyes with tears. 

Chilling our hearts with fears. 

As in its depth 

We waited his coming, 



112 TX MEMOlirAM. 

Vyatched for liis comiiiu- 
Through mist and blackness. 
From deeper misery, 
Bhicl^er captivity, 
Wearisome banishment. 
Sickness and languishment : 
Out of a charnel house, 
Loathsome, pestiferous, 
Out of the depths 
Of the foul Southern prisons. 

Proudly we sent him 

Forth on his mission ; 

Sadly we mourned him, 

Our loved physician, 

Who when war's thunder stroke 

First on the nation broke. 

Hurried without delay 

Into the tierce affray ; 

On Bull Run's fatal field 

Nobly disdained to yield ; 

Quailed not when shot and sliell 

Raked his frail hospital ; 

Urging his men to die 

Rather than basely fly ; 

Till to captivity 

Borne by the enemy; 

Dragged in derision 

From prison to prison, 

While anxious friends in vain 

Sought his release to gain : 

Still interceding, 

Anxiously pleading, 



r>R. JOHN^ McGREGOH. 

From Winter to Summer, 
Till on this Sabbath morn 
Rumors of his return 
Fell upon doubting ears. 
Hopes were repressed by fears, 
As in the stillness. 
The shuddering- chillness. 
The gloom and the grimness, 
We watched for his coming. 
Never a sound was heard, 
Never word spoken ; 
Silence and darkness reigned 
Mute and unbroken ; 
Till from the valley pale 
A distant moaning wail 
Floated o'er hill and dale, 
Now sinking soft and slow, 
Like summer breezes low. 
Until the straining ear 
Scarce a faint sigh could hear ; 
Then whistles loud and shrill 
Echo from hill to hill, 
Quinnebaug's valley thrill. 
As over mead and plain 
Thunders the lightning train. 
We hear the warning ])ell 
Its swift approach foretell. 
With furious sally 
It whistles through the valley;. 
Dashing along the stream, 
With frantic shriek and scream 
Pausing— perchance to bring 
Home the long wandering — 



113 



I 



114 IX MEMORTAM. 

A moment's delay, 
Then speeds far away, 
Flyin^^- — like comet bright— 
To viewless realms of night. 

Adown the village street 
Lanterns are gleaming, 
Through the gray waning mist 
Dark forms are stealing ; 
Friends, kindred, neighbors, 
Together rally. 
Waiting the tidings 
To come from the valley ; 
Mutely together stood, 
Hoping yet fearing, 
Down the dark valley road 
Anxiously peering. 
Low rumbling sounds we hear. 
Wagons are drawing near. 
Pale spectral forms appear 
Through the mist gleaming. 
O'er the moist clinging soil 
Slowly the horses toil. 
Slow to our seeming. 
Whose eager eyes intent 
On those dim figures bent. 
Scan every lineament, 
Striving in each to trace 
That dear familiar face ; 
Now^ fearing, now doubting, 
Now hoping, now shouting, 
" He has come ! He has come ! 
Oh, Doctor, welcome home! 



DK. JOHN MCGREGOR. ^'^ 

From long imprisonment, 
From weary banishment, 
From battle, danger, chains, 
Oh, welcome home again !" 



We gather round him 

With eager greetings, 

Friend- after friend 

Their joy repeating-, 

While from sweet Thompson 

bells 
A joyful chorus swells. 
Ringing the glad refrain, 
"Home again, home again." 
Black night had passed away 
Before returning day ; 
Vapor and cloud had gone, 
Bright beamed the rising sun. 
As homeward turning, 
Upon this Sabbath morn. 
This resurrection dawn, 
No longer mourning. 
But with one heart and voice 
Singing "Rejoice, rejoice," 
Telling to all around 
"The Lost indeed is found, 
The dead is living," 
Making the Sabbath day 
Where e'er the tidings stray — 
At home or far away — 
A glad Thanksgiving ! 



IK) TX MEMOTUAM. 

Five years have passed since on that morn. 

That misty Aui>:ust mornin.ii'. 
Throuiih hours of darkness and of donl)t. 

We watched for his returninu". 
And liailed our Doctor's safe release. 

His happy restoration, 
To freedom, practice, friends and home. 

With joyful acclamation. 
In deeper, darker, heavier grief, 

To-day our hearts are mourniui?, , 
No friendly message cheers us now 

AVitli hopes of his returning: 
No prayers, no efforts can avail 

To ope that narrow prison, 
No mandate can recall the dead. 

Back to our yearning vision. 

Yet to illume this gloomy vale 

Of death and desolation, 
There comes a light beyond tlie tomb. 

A Heavenly revelation ; 
Death only holds the outward form. 

The grave is but the portal, 
Where the freed spirit drops its clay 

To soar to realms immortal. 
Nor can we doubt that in that realm 

Beyond our dim discerning, 
Were those who watched for his return 

As we that Sabbath morning ; 
Nay, that the rapturous delight 

That marked the earthly meeting 
But faintly shadowed forth the joy 

Of that celestial u'reetinir. 



Di?. JOHIS^ MCGREGOR. 117 

Those who liave \o\ex\ him here below. 

Friends who have passed before him, 
Spirits of just ones perfect grown, 

Were there rejoicing o'er him ; 
While the angelic hosts of God, 

In melodies supernal, 
Welcomed earth's weary wanderer home 

To Salibath rest eternal. 

Eye liath not seen, nor ear hath hoard, 

Nor fancy's brightest vision 
Conceived the things prepared for those 

Wlio share the l)lessed elysian : 
Enongli. that those who honor here 

Their Saviour by confessing. 
Shall be by Him acknowledged there. 

And crowned with endless blessing. 

And he so deeply inonnied by all. 

The much beloved physician. 
Wli(. had so nobly kept the faith. 

Eultilled his earthly mission. 
He who to those celestial heights 

Triumphantly has risen. 
Perchance looks down with pity now 

On us, still bountl in prison. 
And when our mortal course is run. 

Our earthly fetters riven. 
May we, like our departed friend. 

So faithfully have striven. 
That all who welcomed his return. 

( )r shared that happy meeting, 
May share with him that Heavenly home, 

Receive his joyful greeting. 

Z. — Windham County Transcript. 
Thompson, April, 1808. 



THE LATE 

Dr. JOHN McGregor, 



[From the Woonsocket Patriot.] 



A monument has jnst been erected by Mrs. 
Dr. John McGregor, to the memory of her 
lamented husband, at Phenix, R. I. It is 
constructed of granite from the quarry at 
Oneco, Conn., near his father's residence. 
The mcmument is simple, but massive in its 
proportions, and would seem to transmit the 
memory of our good doctor as long as poster- 
ity shall endure, or time shall last. The mon- 
ument consists of thi*ee blocks of granite, 
commencing with a base of five feet in 
diamotei' and two feet thick, which, frcmi the 
conformation of the ground, required sixteen 
horses to convey it to its restijig ])hice. Tlie 



120 

other blocks were in the same relative pi'0])or- 
tions. Above these a shaft was erected, tAvo 
feet ill diameter at the base and twelve feet 
high. The whole is a commanding structure, 
eighteen feet high, executed in the first style 
of the art. On the front of the second block 
of granite, the name, ''Dr. John McGregor," 
is cut in raised letters as large as the space 
will admit, with his age and the date of his 
death nnderneath. Above, on the shaft, are 
the Masonic emblems, the Bible, on which rest 
the square and compass, in the degree of a 
Master Mason, beautifully executed. It will 
rear its massive height in our midst, ever 
recalling those welcome memories which clus- 
ter around his name, and impressing u])oii us 
the exalting thought that he has only gone up 
higher. 



RESOLFTIOXS COXCEHXI^a 

THE DEATH OF 

Dr. JOHN McGregor. 



[From the Providence Daily Journal, November 12, 18fi7. ] 



The Providence Medical Association held 
a meeting, last evening', by adjournment. The 
President, Dr. Collins, gave an interesting 
account of his attendance upon the interna- 
tional Medical Congress in Paris, and his 
visits to the hospitals of various European 
capitals. Upon motion of Dr. Gardner, a com- 
mittee of three was raised to consider the 
matter of the running of cai-s through the pub- 
lic streets of the city, and to memorialize the 
City Council thereon, if it shall to the commit- 
tee seem expedient. Appropriate resolutions 
tonchino- the death of Dr. McGi-eo^or wcm'c 



122 

adopted, an official re]JOi't of wliic-h is hereto 
appended. 

At a meeting of the Providence Medical 
Association, held on Monday evening, I^ov. 
11th, the following resohitions were nnani- 
monsly adopted: 

Wheheas, Our late l)rotlier. Dr. John McGreiior. has, in the 
Providence of God, been removed from us Ijy sudden death; 

Besolved, That we cherish in lasting esteem the many manly 
and g'enerons qualities of his character, his skill and tidelity. 
which had iiiven him a high reputation before he came among 
us; his patriotism, severely tried in long captivity at the South; 
his liberality to the poor, and his conscientious devotion to the 
duties of his profession. 

Besolved, That we keenly lament the loss of an associate who 
gave promise of eminent usefulness in this city. 

Besolved, That we desire to .express our heartfelt sympathy 
with the family that has been so suddenly and terribly bereaved. 

Besolved, That these resolutions be communicated to the 
widow of our late friend, and published in the Providence Daily 
Journal. 

G. L. Collins. M. D.. President. 

AV. IT. Traver. M. D.. Secretarv. 



McGregor post, no. u, 

G. A. R. 



[From the Pawtnxet Valley Gleaner.] 



Dr. John McGregor, for whom this post was 
named, was l)orn October 10, 1820, on the old 
McGrregol- homestead near Greene village, 
Coventry, R. I. He commenced the stndy 
of medicine with Dr. AVilliam Hnbbard, of 
Crompton, R. I., and afterwards attended lec- 
tnres and gradnated at the New York Medical 
College. After practising two years at his old 
home, he came to Phenix, and followed his 
profession hei'c five or six 3^ears. Dnring his 
stay here he was married to Miss Emily 
P. Ames, a danghter of the late William C. 
Ames. He snbseqnently moved to Thompson 
Hill, Conn., to take the ]:>lace of Dr. BoAven, 



124 McaREGOT^ POST, xo. 14, 

one of the most skilliiil surgeons and pliysi- 
cinns in eastern (^oiinooticiit. 

In JS()1 lie was a])])oint(Ml snrg'eon of \hv 
»>(] ( 'Oniu'cticnt i'e<4inu'nt, ])y (tov. Bncking- 
liani. ITc was taken prisoner at tlie fii'st bat- 
tle of Bull Knn, and was inii)risone(l first in 
Lihhy Prison, Rielvniond; from tiiere lie was 
sent to Cliarleston, S. (l. Jail; thenee to ('astle 
l^in(d\ney, then to Colnmhia, in the same 
state; then ])a(dv again to Lihhy ; thenee to 
Salishmy, N. C; and Hnally he was taken in 
his weakened eondition and left alone on tlie 
banks of the James river, without food, and 
almost naked. The seeond day he signalled a 
passing Federal steamboat, and Avas taken on 
board. He was 14 months in these prisons, 
and was ivdneed in weight from 220 to 14o 
])onnds. 

After retnrning home he was elected to the 
Conneetient Senate. But his health was so 
nuieh im])aire(l that he eonld not endnre tlie 
long conntry rides necessary in the ])ractico 
of his profession, and he removed to Pi'ovi- 
donee. Nov. 4th, 18()7, he was i-nn over l)v 
the cars on Dyer street, in that city, and his 



a. A. R. 125 

rig'ht arm so ]:>adly enislied that amputation 
was iiecessaiy. He did not survive the opera- 
tion. His remains were brought here, and rest 
beneath a handsome granite monument hi a 
cemetery on Parker Hill, whither the veterans 
make an annual pilgi-image on Memorial Day. 

McGregor Post, ^o. 8, was formed here 
soon after the war, but died aftei* an enfeebled 
existence of five or six years. The memories 
of the war were fresh then, and returned sol- 
diers did not care to be reminded of army days, 
so that although some twenty-live or thirty 
names were upon the roll at one time, it was 
difficult to secure the attendance of enough 
members to conduct the proceedings of the 
meeting. 

The present lodge, McGregor Post, IN'o. 14, 
starts under more favoi-able auspices. The 
opening meetings have been well attended. 
The chartei- memlx^-s, with their army record, 
are as follows: 

William A. Chappelle was a corporal in 
Co. H., 1st K. I. Cavalry, i-e-enlisting the 7th 
of November, 18(n, and being discharged l)y 
reason of disability, May 17, 18()2. 



12() MCGREGOR POST, X(). 14, 

John Bonner was a ])rivate in Co. Ct., 2nd 
N. H. Infantry, in which he enlisted May 21, 
1861, and from which he was discliai-ged Jnne 
21, 18()1, by reason of ex])iration of service. 

Albert H. Johnson was a private in Co. H., 
llrtli IT. 8. Infantry, in Avhich he enlisted Jnly 
19, 1801, and from which he Avas discharged 
Jnly 19, 1864. He re-enlisted in (^o. A., 12th 
U. 8. Infantry, November 29, LS()7, and served 
a second three yeai*s. 

Cieorge W. Covell served as a ])rivate in 
Co. E., 1st R. I. Light Artillery, fi-om 8ep- 
teml^er, 1861, to flannarv 7, 1868, he being 
discharged foi' disability. He again enlisted 
Jannary 26, 1864, in Co. H., 7th R. I. Infantry, 
and was discharged therefrom Jnly 13, 1865, 
at the close of the war. 

M. A. Arnold was a ])rivate in Co. A., 9th 
X. Y. Cavalry, and served from 8e]jtember 20, 
1861, to December 20, 1863. He then re- 
enlisted in the same company, and served as a 
coi'poral nntil the 17th of Jnly, 1865. 

Josiah B. Bowditch enlisted as a private in 
Co. D., 1st A"t. Infantry, Ai)ril 20, 18()1, and 
served till Angnst 17, 1861, it bein<>* a thi-ee 



G. A. R. 127 

months regiment. He re-enlisted May 29, 
1862, in the 9th Vt. Infantry, and served till 
Jmie 24, 1865. 

William H. Hopkins served as private in 
Co. F., 2nd R. I. Infantry, from November 23, 
1864, to July 13, 1865. 

Oliver P. Brown served from June 5, 1861, 
as ])rivate in Co. H., 2nd K. I. Infantry, until 
June 5, 1864. 

Albert S. Luther served as private in Co. E., 
3d R. I. Heavy Artillery, from August 21, 
1861, to August 31, 1864, and re-enlisted in 
Hancock's Veteran Corps, December, 1864, 
serving till September, 1865. 

Thomas M. Holden served as a pi-ivate in 
the 17th 111. Cavalry, fi-om September 2, 1864, 
till May 22, 1865. 

Rufus H. ^N^orthup enlisted as private in the 
9th R. I. Infantry, May 26, 1862, for three 
months, and served till September 2, 1862. 

Henry King served as assistant surgeon of 
the 9th R. I. (three months) Infantry, from 
September 2, 1862, till December 2, 1862. 

John W. Hollihan served as a private in 
Co. E., 1st R. I. Artillery, from September 13, 



128 McCMIEGOlJ POST, XO. 14, 

18()1, till the M of ()ct()1)eiv \SM. 

Khodes J. Colviii servcHl as a j)rivate in Co. 
E., 65th X. Y. InfantiT, from August 18, 1861, 
to Deceiiil:>er 20, 1863. He again eiihsted in 
the M ^. Y. Battery, December 20, 1863, and 
was discharged Febrnary 20, ^SM, by i-eason 
of wounds receiyed in action in front of Peters- 
Imrg. 

James T. Smitli sei'yed as a i)rivate in Co. 
K., 7th K. I. Infantry, from August 8, 1861, 
till June 9, ^Hil"). 

Jolm E. Sweet sei-yed as a ])riyate in tlie 
2nd K. r. Infantry, fi*om flune o, ]8()1, till June 
17, 18()4. 

Elislia (4. Tew enlistcMl as a i)ri\ate in the 
12th E. 1. JnfantiT, Sei)tember 25, 18()2, and 
sei-ved till July 29, 1863. 

E. C. Capwell enlisted as a priyate in Co. 
A., 1st R. I. Cayalry, August 8, 1862, was 
made hospital steward, and Avas discharged 
June 6, 1865. 

William Carter enlisted as a ])riyate in Co. 
E., 4th K. I. Infantry, September 10, 1861, and 
was discharged by reason of disability, October 
10, 1862. 



G. A. R. 129 

Frank M. Tucker served in the 1st E. I. 
Light Artillery, from September 4, 1861, till 
January 30, 1864. He re-enlisted in the same 
command, January 31, 1864, and served as a 
sergeant till July 16, 1865. 

Arnold Lawton served in Co. F. 4th R. I. 
Infantry, from September 17, 1861, till March 
31, 1864. 

Elisha K. Watson enlisted in Co. D., 4th 
R. I. Infantry, August 5, 1862, and served as 
private till June 4, 1865. 

ISTathan Potter, Jr. served in the Signal 
Corps, from May 13, 1864, till September 5, 
1865. 



EXTRACTS FROM 

THE 

WINDHAM COUNTY TRANSCRIPT, 

AciausT 1, 1861. 



[ Corrcspoiideiice of the Transciipt.] 

WASHTOCiTox, D. C, July 26, '61. 
Dear Sir: — You are already informed of 
the great fight, victory, and ignominious 
retreat last Sunday. I have not the time to 
write a description of the affair, and if I 
attempted to do so my pen would fail in the 
attempt. I j^assed the Sabbath, by invitation, 
at the house of the Hon. Amos Kendall, when 
we distinctly heard the cannonading, and up 
to 9 o'clock at night no unfavorable news 
reached us, but on the contrary, despatches 
were received stating we had won the day, 
which ]M-oves to be true, up to about 5 o'clock, 
when the teamsters took fright and commenced 
a stampede. This was soon communicated 



l.')l^ EXTRACTS FROM TIIK 

to the volunteers. At the snine time an ineon- 
siderate order to fall baek Avas made, when 
some of the men behaved badly, thouo-h \hv 
main body fell baek in good order. 

The Conneetient Kegiments Ix'haved ireJI, 
both in the tight and retreat, saving all their 
own baggage and equipment and that of four 
other Keoiments besides. — The loss of our 

CI 

three Kegiments is thcmght to l)e less than 100 
men in killed, w(mnded and missing, among 
whom we have to reeord Dr. MeGregor, Sur- 
geon of the Third Kegiment, supposed to be 
a prisoner, and James F. Wilkinson, about 
whom nothing has been heai'd from sinee the 
retreat. 

The last known of Dr. MeGregor, he Avas 
in the hospital doing his duty, and although 
advised to ruu it seems he preferred not to 
leave the poor w^onnded men, even to save him- 
self. All honoi- to sueh heroism. 

The 1st Conneetient Regiment started for 
home last night; and here let me say a woi-d 
about the Captain of the 1st eompany, ( T. E. 
Hawley, Esq.) who instead of being at the 
hotels, where too manv ofHeei's weie, I found 



WINDHAM couxTY tka:n^script. 133 

him with his own men, sharing with them all 
the hardships of the day, and for this devotion 
to their interests the men all love him. Always 
esteemed, he is now loved a thonsand fold 
moi-e than before. We need more such men 
as Capt. Hawley. 

The troops are pouring in here from the 
Xorth, and we shall soon see 150,000 men here 
under MeClellan, who, you may be assured, 
will make the rebels dance. 

When I learn more definitely about Dr. 
McGregor and Mr. Wilkinson I will inform 
you. In great haste, 

C. Blackmar. , 



Of our friend, Dr. McGregor, over whose 
fate some uncertainty hangs, we cannot think 
or write, save as of one who will in time be 
i-eturned to us. If a pi'isoner, his professional 
position in the army would secure him merci- 
ful treatment from any enemy raised above the 
lowest dregs of barbarism — and we would not, 
until compelled by the most conclusive evi- 
dence, class the Southern rebels below the 
Comanche Indians. We know that he came 



134 EXTRACTS FllOM THE 

out unliarmed from the shock of l^rittle, and 
we cannot tliink that he has l:)een mnrdered 
while eng'aged in the ])erfoi'manee of liis du- 
ties. When hast seen he was husy ministerino* 
to the wants and alleviating the sufferings of 
the wounded, with that kindness, coolness and 
skill vvdiich has made him so ])opula]" among 
us. He was ''staying with the boys,'' nol:)l3^ 
and fearlessh^ ])erforming his duty; and we 
cannot but ho})e that he may live to exercise, 
either in private or military service, that pi'o- 
fessional skill, and to manifest those qualities 
of mind and heart that make him so popular 
with his patients, and that so fit him to fill witli 
advantage to the State, and with credit to him- 
self, the responsible office of Sui'geon in the 
armv. 



Dr. McGregor. — From the latest re])orts 
from the Surgeon of the Third Regiment it 
appears that Dr. McGrregor was not killed, but 
is a prisoner to the rebels. The news of Tues- 
day states that the hospitals were not bui-ned, 
and that a dozen Sm^geons of the Federal army 
are at Manassas. With every person in Wind- 



WINDHAM COU^v^TY TRANSCRIPT. 135 

ham County, we experienced a glow of pride 
at the licroic record of the conduct of the noble 
doctor. He was told that all was lost, and he 
must leave the field to save his life, but the 
im])ulses of a generous, humane heart were 
stronger than the call of self-preservation, and 
he remained at his post of ditty^ soothing the 
]^ains of the wounded and dying. Such self- 
abnegation gilds the dark cloud of our tempo- 
rary defeat with rays of light from heaven. 
An appreciating communit}^ hope to welcome 
him again to his old home, Avhere a grateful 
people will honor tlie name of McGregor for- 
ever. 



SOCIETY 

OF 

UNION WAR PRISONERS 



Among the mementoes of the war, which 
Dr. MeGi-egoi' had at the time he left the 
scenes of earth, to explore that unknown coun- 
try from which no traveller returns, is a picture 
which the doctor cherished to an extreme. To 
give the reader an idea of this picture, I Avill 
go hack to a scene which took ])lace in Charles- 
ton Jail, on Decemher 31, 1861. At this time 
the jail and jail-yai*d were filled with men who 
had left their homes, tlieii* families, and almost 
everything which makes life desirahle, to 
defend and ui)hold the flag of our nation; that 
flag wliich cost our ])atri()t forefathers so much 
blood and siifferino'; a flai^' whicli thev liad left 



likS SOCIETY OF 

niitarnisbed to our keeping, and which we had 
sworn to protect and chei-isli. The thonght 
becomes ahnost nnbearable, when onr minds 
go back to December 31, 18G1, and resnrrect 
the scenes which were then taking ])lace in 
that loathsome prison. Tavo hnndred of onr 
most vahant and patiiotic men were hnddled 
together within those walls. Men of nnblem- 
ished character, whose minds soared alcove 
rebellion, wiiose intellects were of the highest 
oi'der, were snffering for Avant of bread and 
many of the necessaries which snstain life. 
Men who wonld never knowingly do a wrong- 
thing, and whose minds were as unbending as 
the forest oak, were by fever and famine 
bronght to a premature grave. Bnt amid all 
their snfferings and hardships, their minds 
were at work. Yon can iuiprison the body, 
but yon cannot confine the mind Avithin prison 
walls. The mind mnst be free, or it will desert 
its throne. Many of our noble soldier boys 
became idiotic, and died by being deprived of 
food and water while in those prisons. The 
doctor knew that the mind mnst be em])loyed 
in some way, to keej) it from their terrible sit- 



UNIOI^ WAK PKISO^ERS. 139 

uatioii, or death would ensue; so he went to 
work and formed a secret organization with 
these brother prisoners. It Avas more for the 
purpose of keeping their minds from their suf- 
ferings than anything else, and I have heard 
him say that he believed that it saved his own 
life and many other lives. 

Among those prisoners was an artist of the 
highest reputation. As they were moved from 
one prison to another, he would sketch every- 
thing within his view appertaining to the 
prisons. In some mysterious way his sketch- 
ings found their way within our lines, and 
were forwarded to Washington. President 
Lincoln by some means or other got hold of 
them. He had them enlarged, and they made 
a very interestmg picture for those who 
belonged to that organization which was 
formed at Charleston Jail, and who wei-e 
lucky enough to get once more within our 
lines. 

I will give the reader a description of this 
picture. It is two feet, eight inches wide, and 
three feet long. It represents the different 
prisons and their surroundings, which those 



140 SOCIETY OF 

men wei-e in who l^elonged to tliat organiza- 
tion. In the left hand eorner at the top stands 
Logan's tobacco factory in tlie city of Kich- 
mond, better known by our Northern soldiers 
by the name of Libby Prison. In the o])posite 
corner of the picture stands the jail at Colum- 
bia, S. C, with the jail-yards in view. In the 
center stands Castle Pinckney, 8. C. The 
picture is surrounded by a massive chain. 
Over this prison in large type is the following: 
"Union War Prisoners Association." On the 
left of the center picture stands S. C. Mill 
Prison, Salisbury; and on the right another 
view of the same prison is represented. The 
stagnant pool from which our poor boys got 
water to quench their thirst, is in one corner 
of the yard. It makes one feel sad to look at 
this picture, and remember how much suffering 
there was in that prison and pen, in the time 
of the war. At the bottom of the picture 
stands the City Jail, Charleston, S. C. On the 
right of the jail and in the corner is a view^ of 
the prison-yard, and in the left hand corner is 
another view. Under the City Jail is the fol- 
lowing in large type: "-Organized in Charles- 



UNION WAR PRISONERS. 141 

ton Jail, December 31, 1861.'^ 

A massive chain encircles this picture, with 
crossed chains I'unning from one side to the 
other, denoting that our boys were thoroughly 
guarded in those prisons. Between the views 
of those different prisons, are columns contain- 
ing the autographs of the ])risoners who 
belonged to that wonderful organization. I 
will give the names and rank as they appear 
upon the picture. I will commence with the 
left hand column, which extends from Libby 
Prison, which is situated in the top and left 
hand corner of the picture, and continues down 
until it comes to the view in the left hand cor- 
ner at the bottom. Then I will continue col- 
umn after column, until I come to the last 
name, which will be situated in the right hand 
corner at the bottom. 



William H. Clark, 

2ik1 Lieut. Conip. G. 4th Me. Vols. 

S. R. Kittredge, 

2ncl Lieut. 2ncl Me. Vols. 

IVfauniel Albaugh, 

2nd Lieut. 1st Md. Vols. 



142 SOCTKTV OF 

John Knoppel, 

2n(l Lieut. 1st Md. Vols. 

Virgil T. Mei-eer, 

2iul Lieut. 1st Md. Vols. 
2ik1 Lieut. IsfrMd. Vols. 

David L. Stanton, 

2nd Lieut. 1st Md. Vols. 

J. C. Gregg, 

Tel-Op. Hooker's Div. 

A. M. Underbill, 

1st Lieut, nth N. Y. Vols. 

Ilariy L. Perrin, 

H. S. nth N. Y. Vols. 

Arnold Rnmmer, 

1st Lieut. G8th N. Y. Vols. 

Charles Wilatns, 

2nd Lieut. 8th N. Y. Vols. 

Frd. Mosebach, 

2nd Lieut. 7th N. Y. Vols. 

Albert Brands, 

H. S. r,8th N. Y. Vols. 

Anton o. Gfrorner, 

1st Lieut. 54th N. Y. Vols. 

Angnst Erhardt, 

2nd Lieut. 54th N. Y. Vols. 

Thos. S. Hamblin, 

1st Lieut. 38th N. Y. Vols. 

C. T. Gardner, 

1st Lieut. 100th N. Y. Vols. 



I XlOX WAK PJnSONKKS. 143 

Timothy Lynch, 

2iid Lieut. 100th N. Y. Vols. 

John Marses, 

2iicl Lieut. 3d N. Y. Car. 

E. M. Raworth, 

Serg't Maj. 8th 111. Car. 

B. L. Chamberlain, 

Qt. M'r 8th ni. Cav. 

H. Ct. Lmnbard, 

Adjt. 8th 111. Cav. 

G. B. Kenniston, 

1st Lieut, oth Me. Vols. 

John K. Skiemer, Jr., 

1st Lieut. 2ud Me. Vols. 

J. Bostwick Colony," 

1st Lieut. 1st Md. Vols. 

F. M. Collier, 

1st Lieut. 1st Md. Vols. 

Wm. E. George, 

1st Lieut. 1st Md. Vols. 

C. R. Gillingham, 

1st Lieut. 1st Md. Vols. 

Edward J. Rice, 

1st Lieut. 5th Couu. Vols. 

Chas. Walter, 

1st Lieut. 1st Conn. Vols. 

John DoAvney, 

Capt. nth N. Y. Vols. 

Ben. Price, 

Capt. 70th N. Y. Vols. 



141 soriF/rv of 



A. A. C. Williams, 

Ass't Surii-. IstN. Y. Art. 

Ros. A. Fish, 

Capt. 32nd N. Y. Vols. 

Jas. Deeatur Potter, 

Maj. 38th N. Y. Vols. 

A. S. Cassidy, 

Maj. 93d N. Y. Vols. 

L. CI. Camp, 

Capt. CSth N. Y. Vols. 

Anton Lehner, 

2nd Lieut. 8th N. Y. Vols. 

Oscar V. Heringon, 

1st Lient. Conip. E. 7th N. Y. Vols. 

Heniy Memann, 

Comm. 29th N. Y. Vols. ^ 

William Fay, 

1st Lieut. 25th N. Y. Vols. 

Levi Smith, 

Lst Lieut. 9(:th N. Y. Vols. 

C. W. Tillotson, 

1st Lieut. 99th N. Y. Vols. 

M. Bailey, 

Capt. 100th N. Y. Vols. 

John A. jSTewell, 

1st Lieut. 100th N. Y. Vols. 

Abi-am H. Hasbrouck, 

Adjt. 5th N. Y. Cav. 

John W. Dempsey, 

1st Lieut. 2nd N. Y. S. M. 



uxiON WAR piiison:ers. 145 

Samuel Irwin, 

2ncl Lieut. 2nd N. Y. S. M. 

F. E. Worcester, 

2ncl Lieut. 71st N. Y. S. M. 

Geo. W. Caleff, 

2nd Lieut. 11th Mass. Vols. 

Leonard Gordon, 

Capt. nth Mass. Vols. 

V. C. ISTiekels, 

Comm'd Brig. B. K. Eaton. 

Wm. Millions, 

Capt. 1st Va. Vols. 

Timothy Swan, 

1st Lieut. Comp. A. 7th Me. Vols. 

James S. Baer, 

1st Lieut. 1st Md. Vols. 

B. H. Schley, 

Capt. 1st Md. Vols. 

G. W. Kngler, 

Capt. 1st Md. Vols. 

V. E. Von Koerber, 

Capt. 1st Md. Car. 

James A. Betts, 

Capt. 5th Conn. Vols. 

Hiram Eddy, 

Capt. 2nd Conn. Vols. 

Geo. Webb Dodge, 

Chap'l nth N. Y. Vols. 

C. C. Gray, 

Ass't Sura;. U. S. A. 



14(3 SOCIETY OT^ 



Manuel C. Causten, 

1st Lient. 19th Inf. U. S. A. 

W. F. Dushane, 

Lt. Col. 1st. Md. Vols. 

Percy Wyndham, 

Col. 1st N. J. Cav. 

Jolin S. Crocker, 

Col. 93d N. Y. Vols. 

Lew Benedict, Jr., 

Lt. Col. 73d N. Y Vols. 

Otto Botticher, 

Capt. G8th N. Y. Vols. 

Jos. ^enstaedser^ 

Qt. M'r 8th N. Y. Vols. 

A. H. Drake, 

Capt. 33d N. Y. Vols. 

Martin Willis, 

Capt. 74th N. Y. Vols. 

B. F. Harris, 

Capt. 25th N. Y. Vols. 

J. H. mcliols, 

Capt. 96th N. Y. Vols. 

Thomas Y. Baker, 

Capt. 87th N. Y. Vols. 

J. W. Dickinson, 

Capt. 8th N. Y. Cav. 

Amos H. White, 

Capt. 5th N. Y. Cav. 

James A. Farrish, 

Capt. 79th N. Y. S. M. 



UNION WAR PRISONERS. 147 

Wm. Mandon, 

Capt. 71)th N. Y. S. M. 

John Whyte, 

Ist Lieut. TOth N. Y. S. M. 

P. J. Hargous, 

M'rs Mate U. S. N. 

J. T. Morrill, 

Comm'cl St. Osceola. 

John McGregor, 

Surg. 3cl Conn. Vols. 

J. D. Crnttenclen, 

A. Q. M. of Vols. 

J. Ford Kent, 

1st Lieut. 3d Inf. U. S. A. 

J. Sogdes, 

Maj. 1st Art. U. S. A. 

O. B. Willcox, 

Col. 1st Mich. Vols. 

Michael Corcoran, 

Col. G9th N. Y. S. M. 

Geo. W. IvTeff, 

Lt. Col. 2n(l Ky. Inf. 

Tim. J. Mearo, 

Capt. 42nd N. Y. Vols. 

John B. Hoffman, 

Ass't. Sur.ij:. U. S. A. 

G. H. Bean, 

C^apt. 1st Vt. Cav. 

Mort Griffin, 

Capt. 8th N. Y. S. M. 



148 SOCIETY OF 



Levi S. Stoekwell, 

Pay Ms'r U. S. N. 

Cha8. H. Baker, U. S. IS"., 

Chief En.ii-. U. S. N. 

L. II. Stone, 

Surii-. U. S. A. 

Charles B. Penrose, 

C. S. U. S. Vols. 

D. 8. Gordon, 

2iul Lieut. 2ii(l Dra,"-. U. S. A. 

S. Bowman, 

Lieut. Col. 8th Pa. Vols. 

John K. Mnrphy^ 

Col. 29th Pa. Vols. 

W. E. Woodrnff, 

Col. 2iKl Ky. Inf. 

E. A. Constable, 

Lt. Col. 75th O. Vols. 

George Austin, 

Capt. 2iKl Ky. Inf. 

George D. Slocum, 

Ass't Surg. IT. S. N. 

John T. Drew, 

Capt. 2nd Vt. Vols. 

J. P. Melvor, 

Capt. 69th N. Y. S. M. 

John Bagley, 

1st Lieut. r)9th N. Y. S. M. 

Edw'd Connelly, 

2ncl Lieut. ri9th N. Y. S. M. 



IIXIOX WAK PKI8()NEI18. 149 

James Gannon, 

2iul Lient. COtli N. Y. S. M. 

E. Cxiddings, 

2nd Lieut. 3d Wis. Vols. 

Gnstavns Hammer, 

Capt. 3d Wis. Vols. 

John J. Garvin, 

Coium'd St. Union. 

John H. Shohwin, 

Capt. 1st N. Y. Cay. 

Henry E. Clark, 

Capt. 1st N. J. Cav. 

AY. H. Withington, 

Capt. 1st Mich. Vols. 

W. E. Davis, 

Capt. 27th Ind. Vols. 

Wm. D. Richards, 

Capt. 2J)th Pa. Vols. 

Wm. Richards, Jr., 

Capt. 21)th Pa. Vols. 

Cyrns Strons, 

Capt. 4(Jth Pa. Vols. 

Lonis Sclireiner, 

Chap'l 27th Pa. Vols. 

W. R. Stockton, 

Chap'l r.lst Pa. Vols. 

A. Davidson, 

Capt. nth Pa. Cav. 

J. W. DeFord, 

1st Lieut. Si.L^ Cr. 



LjO s<)('II:T^' OF 

. a. W. Davison. 

Capt. Gist Pii. Vols, 

Geo. F. Smith, 

Maj. (list Fa. Vols. 

Will. L, Curry, 

Lt. Col. lOCth Pa. Yoh 

Thos. Clark, 

Lt. Col. 2i)tli (). Vols. 

Thos. Cox, Jr., 

Capt. 1st Ky. Inf. 

J. W. Sprague, 

Capt. Tth (). Vols. 

G. W. Shiirtlefr, 

Capt. 7tli O. Vols. 

R. L. Kilpatrick, 

Capt. ath O. Vols. 

II. E. Symilies, 

Capt. 5th (). Vols. 

James Beuse, 

Capt. (5th (). Vols. 

Edw'd Hayes, 

Capt. 29th (). Vols. 

R. B. Smith, 

Capt. 21)th (). Vols. 

David E. Hiirll^urt, 

I Capt. 2!)th O. Vols. 

Thos. O. Buxton, 

Capt. GGth O. Vols. 

J. Ct. Pahner, 

Capt. GGth O. Vols. 



itnio:n^ war prtso:n^ers. 151 

M. L. Dempcy, 

2ncl Lieut. Gfith O. Vols. 

J. W. Watkins, 

2ncl Lieut. O. Vols. 

H. C. Speiieer, 

2ik1 Lieut. 3cl Wis. Vols. 

Isaac M. Church, 

2iKl Lieut. 2nd R. I. Vols. 

WilHam Luce, 

Civ. Eug-. 

Richard H. Lee, 

Capt. 6th N. J. Vols. 

A. E. Welch, 

1st Lieut. 1st Minn. Vols. 

J. P. C. Emmons, 

Capt. 1st Mich. Cav. 

D. Van Buskirk, 

2nd Lieut. 27th Ind. Vols. 

James C. Linton, 

1st Lieut. 29th Vols. 

Geo. E. Johnson, 

1st Lieut. 29th Pa. Vols. 

M. McCarter, 

1st Lieut. 93d Pa. Vols. 

Sam. Cuspaden, 

1st Lieut. 52nd Pa. Vols. 

Wm. T. Banm, 

1st Lieut. 2Gth Pa. Vols. 

James E. Fleming, 

1st Lieut, nth Pa. Cav. 



152 SOCIETY OF 

A. ]^. Davis, 

Capt. 3c1 Ky. Cax. 

C. C. Keen, 

1st Lieut. 5th Ky- Car. 

Arthur T. Wilcox, 

1st Lieut. 7tli (). Vols. 

William N. Diek, 

1st Lieut. 5tli O. Vols. 

J. B. King, 

1st Lieut. 1st (). Art. 

Charles Gilman, 

2ucl Lieut. Cth (). Vols. 

II. Gregon, 

1st Lieut. 29th O. Vols. 

William ^N'eil, 

1st Lieut. 2f)th O. Vols. 

E. B. Woodbury, 

1st Lieut. 2!)th O. Vols. 

B. F. Ganson, 

1st Lieut. OOth O. Vols. 

W. H. Kinley, ^ 

2ncl Lieut. (Jth N. J. Vols. 

Frank A. Parker, 

2iid Lieut. 1st Cal. Vols. 

Andrew Luke, 

2ncl Lieut. 7th Ind. Vols. 

Joseph Maguigin, 

2nd Lieut. 2yth Pa. Vols. 

J. H. Goldsmith, 

2ud Lieut. 2yth Pa. Vols. 



tJN^IOX WAR PRISONERS. 153 

J. B. Hutchison, 

2ik1 Lieut. 15th Pa. Vols. 

J. Irwin ^erm, 

2ncl Lieut. 28th Pa. Vols. 

E. M. Croll, 

2ud Lieut. 104th Pa. Vols. 

Andrew B. Wells, 

1st Lieut. 8th Pa. Cav. 

James Farran, 

2nd Lieut. 1st Ky. Inf. 

Jno. L. Walters, 

2nd Lieut. 8d Ky. Cav. 

James Timmous, 

2nd Lieut. 5th O. Vols. 

K. E. Fisher, 

2nd Lieut. 5th U. Vols. 

Chas. H. Robinson, 

2nd Lieut. 1st 0. Art. 

F. S. Schieffer, 

2nd Lieut. Cth (). Vols. 

Thos. W. ISTash, 

2nd Lieut. 29th O. Vols. 

Andrew Wilson, 

2nd Lieut. 29th O. Vols. 

Carey H. Russell, 

2nd Lieut. 29th 0. Vols. 

W. A. Sampson, 

2nd Lieut. 66th O. Vols. 



154 SOriETV OF 

I think tluTc wvvv two (>l)j(M*ts in fonninu' 
this ()r<;'anizati()n. The first was to kc'c'|) their 
minds tVom theii' snftV'rinii's; and the second 
was, that, in case onr arniv shonhl attempt to 
rescne thcni, thcv ini<^-ht he |)rc'i)ar('(l to act in 
concert. ^Fany of thcni chmi^- to hope as tlie 
ehihl clin<^-s to tiie parent when they ])ass o\'cr 
some teri'ihU' j)hice. ()tlie!'s became desj)on- 
deiit, snnk l)eneath the \ iU' waves ofdestitntion 
and were h)st. When hope Nanisjied jrom theii' 
view, they were soon nnnil)ered willi the(U'a(l. 

This j)lctnre was pi-esented to the(h)ctor by 
President Lincohi oi' Secretary Stanton, I am 
not snre which. I snpj)ose that eacli of the 
other prisoners who heh)ni;'ed to that oi'i^aniza- 
tion. and who ii\'e(l to come hom\ had one pre- 
sented to him. This, witli otiier war pictnres, 
hand's in one of tlie rooms at the (h)ctor's old 
liomestead. It is viewed by many witli nmch 
interest. Very often, when this pictnre is 
viewed ]>y those who Avere in the army, point- 
in*^- to some name, they will say, "I kncAv ivim. 
lie Avas in our re<>'iment." or, "lie was our 
captain.'' or, "Tie Avas taken prisoner at sneh 
a battle." Those Avho lived to come home 



T^XTOX WAP. PKTSOXEHS. 155 

wvvv scattered from Maine to tlie most west- 
ern states, so tliat in all Imman probability, 
there were not many of tliem who ever met 
eaeli other aftei" they eame home. It is very 
])i-()l)al)le that the most of them have, before this 
time, ei-ossed the dark I'iver of death, to explore 
that eonntry where we hope there will l)e no 
rebellions or wars to agitate the mind. While 
the snrvivoi's of the soldiers who rallied aronnd 
onr flag and kept it from being tarnished, — 
those who remain on this side of the river 
whieh divides this from that nndiseovered 
conntiy, — have their rennions, the qnestion 
arises with some, Will those ])Ooi- soldiers who 
have ])assed from earth lun e their I'ennions in 
eternity? And another (piestion often arises, 
Do we, as a ])eo])le, sym])athize as mneh as we 
onght Avith the maimed soldiei's who saeritieed 
so nnieh foi' their eonntry 's sake, who lost their 
limbs while ])roteeting the flag which has so 
lonii" waved over one of the best and most 
noble eonntries known on this earth? These 
are (piestions whieh should be bronglit home 
and eonsidei'ed. 



riinr'» :\ i>iMi(lnlniii <'\ rv >'\\ i\iuiiiu. 

Harkw .•U(l. 1>>v\\:ntl. lonml 1'r.> ; 
In itN ('h;mui'» r\ im" iMincinu. 

Miuiilod ^oouo-* ot j»>y find w.n ' 
l.llV i«i liko tl\o tii1o> of ooonn. 

Oiu' uu('0;i«iinu oi>l^ ;vnil IUmv. 
Yomh ;»d\ amini". ;»uo rvMurniui:'. 

(;»M\or;Uion-< »-»>ino and up. 
Naino-s Vi'uiuiu. 'ml thinu^ :n'«^ vh.-uiuolul. 

Viv^ no( xtill \\\\;\\ t|\rv ;<p|H\'\r. 
In ihr iiMniv tilt" ^Mn\r. tln^ »l.'i\ wr r.vUy 

r>ni w 1(»MT arc th«»<-r who on«o \\oro hovr' 
(iono to il\\»>U nud vovmu» suporual. 

(;ono Ih\\(Mu1 iho world of tojirs ; 
(lonr lo rc;\lni» nndinunod, i^UM'nnl. 

Immii^ bovond tho tUiiht i»l\vt»ars. 

M(Mnoi> Mr'^^iluni. Tw ino wa^ ^^nrland^^ 
Ixound \\w\v ur{\vo>. of fo-^tnl jIowim^; 

l\onuio\n> wrtil in tearful um«bor>». 
Wlulo ;ivl\;»no»^ tho jovon^ l\oiu» 

llir ln>nibnrilnuMit (^iM^'oi'l SinnlcM'. ll \ii-ln;ilh 

nnil lii^ ;nnn , AjM'il L*h. ISti,"), ;n Ihiili.ini Sm- 
li*>ii. (itMi. 1,11' diitl lii^ ;ii-ni\ lin\ iii^ ^nri'iMi- 
tlrii^il «-^^^l•^;ll >vcH^k^ |>^o^ iiMi^h . 



McOKKGOlJ POST, 0. A. II., 

i)AMi:i.s()\\ ii.i.r], (.ONX. 



Al'lcr t he tid.'il vvnvc ol' ichcllion li;i(l hccii 
hi'okcn, niid lli;i1 dcsl nicl inc clcinciil siilxliicd, 
;md llic I'ciiiJiiiiiii;;- sclcrniis li;id I'cl iini('(| to 
tlicii' homes, (ir;md Aniiy Posts vvci-c (oniicd 
in dill'ci-cnl phiccs 1 hroiii^lioiil the Xorl licni 
stntcs. One o(* Ihcsc |>osts vvjis lormcd in llic 
Ix'jinlifid horou^h oC I );ini('!sonvill(', ('onn. Il 
vvns nnincd nWcv \)v. John McC irc^^or, nnd 
cnllcd Mc(i|-(';j;-oi- l*ost. 'I'his showccl the 
('s1('('ni the vclcrnns h;id foi" him. A fnll his- 
tory ofthis l*ost vvonhl he very interest in:;- to 
nifiiiv, hilt I h;ive not the me;ins ;it h;ind to 
i^'ive it, so I will content myselChy sjiyin;^" t h;it 
the lod^^-e I'oom is in keepin;;- with the ohjeet, 



158 McGP.EflOl^ POST, G. A. P., 

and adorned with many nuMnentoe's of the war. 

At this time the memories of the war were 
fresh, and tlie returned soldiers seemed to 
enjoy tliemselves ])y assend:)ling' together and 
talking about the seenes whieh they ])assed 
thrcmgh during that terrible war. Their blood 
would be warmed and ([uiekencKl when the 
band })layed some tune whieh they had heard 
played Avheu they were about to make a des- 
iderate ehai-ge ui)on those I'ebels; and again 
the soft miu'umrings of the beautiful Quinne- 
baug I'iyer woidd soothe their feelings, as it 
iiowed past their lodge on its way to tlie grave 
of Uneas, the onee noted ehieftain of the Quin- 
nebaug Valley. 

These meetings nuist l)e ]>leasant in some 
respeets, and yery sad in other respeets. It 
must be pleasant for those soldiers to meet 
and elasp hands with eaeh other onee more on 
eailh, but when their minds turn back to those 
terrible seenes on those battle fields, they nnist 
be filled with sadness. Xo doubt they ai-e 
willing to have the curtain droj) to l^anish fi'om 
their memory those battle field scenes where 
thousands of our noble young men went down 



BAXTELSOXVILLK, COXX. 159 

to rise no more on earth, where they bit the 
earth, poured out their blood, and sacrificed 
their lives for theii* country's sake. No doubt 
many of those scenes often rise in view, but 
we nnist ho])e tliat the ch)ud which appears so 
dark may have a silver lining. 

Time is silvering- the locks of those who 
remain to assemble at their lodge, and thinning 
the ranks of those who suifered the hardships 
and privations of that war, but there is one 
consoling thought which should stimulate the 
remaining conn-ades, and that is this — there 
will ])e a reunion of those comrades on the 
other side of the dark river of death, away 
from the scenes of war and suffering, away 
from the fever and the famine, aAvay fi'om dis- 
coi'd and contention, Avhere all may go and 
enjoy the songs of the angels and the presence 
of our Heavenly Father, where eveiything will 
be pure and holy, in that mellow light reflected 
from the throne of God. Most of their old 
commanders have vanished from our sight, to 
be seen no more on earth; and the time is not 
fai" distant wIumi those who took a ))a)t in sav- 
ing our country (rom disgrace, will be men 



160 McflEEriOE POST, (1. A. K., 

Avlio were. Their history will stand high on 
the record of fame, and go down to ])osterity 
as the snn g'oes down l)eyond the western hills, 
leavin<>' a beantifnl snnset. Every young man 
of to-day shonld he familiar with the history of 
those men, and shonld monld his character after 
their example. 

When that time arrives when the last veteran 
of onr last war has ])assed from earth to join 
his conn-ades who passed away amid the thnn- 
der and sn^ioke of l)attle, and those who sur- 
vived tlu^ sliock of that teri'ible war to hear 
victory proclaimed thronghont oui' countiw, 
then, and not nntil then, can onr history be 
com])lete concerning that war; for every man 
has a histoi'v, and there is nothing com])lete 
Avhere there is any |)ai-t left ont. Then the 
Goddess of Liberty may trnly say, '^I have 
survived those ])atriots who esta])lished my 
throne and jjrotected me with their 1)lood and 
treasui-e for seventy-eight long years, and I 
have also survived all of those valiant young 
men who came to my assistance wlien tlie flag- 
was assailed which I have waved so long over 
one of the most glorious nations on the earth. 



DAXIELSON^VILLE, COXN. 161 

and still my throne stands as firm as the 
adamantine rock, and the old flag is nntar- 
nished, with each and every star glittering in 
the snnlight of pi-osperity." 

AYhile I deeply monrn for those who have 
acted a noble part, and gone to assemble 
ai'ound a more gloi'ions throne, the sadness is 
somewhat diminished by a i-ay of light break- 
ing throngh the dark cloud, and, l)y its bi-ight- 
ness, saying, "Your throne is safe, and will 
ever be so as long as the spirit of our fore- 
fathers exists in those who have the manage- 
ment of our government/' May it stand until 
the archangel, with one foot upon the sea and 
the other upon the land, shall proclaim that 
time is no more. Then may the laurel wreath 
which encircles the flag of our nation be found 
unremoved, and in all of its freshness. This 
throne has stood as a sentinel over this nation 
for more than one himdred years. It has seen 
former generations rise, flourish, and i)ass away 
as if they had never existed. 

Here may be seen the ruins of an Indian 
em])ire; and though they were the chihlren of 
the forest, and though they left no monnincnts 



162 >r<fjr.Er;oE post, (r. a. u., 

of sc-iil])turc', painting, oi' ])()C'trv, yet <;'ivat ^^vvv 
thoy in tlicir tall, and sorrowfiil is the stoiy of 
their wron<^'s. They onee^ had cities, but Avhei'e 
are they now? It is ti-ue they W()rshi|)pe(l the 
Great Spirit, and the genius of stoi'ni and dark- 
ness. The saered ])ages of I'evelation had 
never been nin-olled to them, and the gos])el 
of our Savior had never sounded in the eai's 
of the ])oor ehihb'eii of the forest. They heard 
the voice of their God in the morning breeze; 
thev saw llim in the dark clouds that rose in 
Avrath from the west. Here they once hved 
and loved. Here the council hre blazed and 
the war-whoo]) echoed auKmg their native hills. 
Bnt at length the white man from the east 
came upon theii' shores. They yielded not 
their em])ire tamely, bnt they could not stand 
against the sons of light, and so they fled. 

To-(hiy America opens wide the gate and 
smooths the way by which the aspiring yonth 
of onr land may drink at the fonntain of free- 
dom, and if they will follow those who have 
left in our kee])ing the greatest ti'easuiv on 
earth, and who are beckoning ns onwai'd, the 
day is not far distant when the bar, the senate, 



DAXTELSOXyrLLE, coxx. 1(33 

and the jnilpit will re-echo the ])rinci])les upon 
which our government standts, and will draw 
the eyes of all learned men from beyond 
Athnitic's waves to the growing blessings of 
the Aniei'ican I'epiiblic. A noble feeling has 
already been awakened thronghont the Union. 
Offerings from the ti'easni'y of almost every 
state have already been laid on the altar, and 
conseci'ated to the elevation of man. The 
])oet's muse, the oi'ator's elocpience, and the 
histoi'ian's j)eu, will ei'elong be em])loyed on 
nobler themes than even our majestic rivers, 
matchless water-falls, interminal)le forest, oi* 
smiling prairies — the cultivation of human 
intellect, the elevation of the human mind 
above all (xi-ecian aud all Roman fame. This 
conntry is raising a uionnment that will last 
wluMi the names and the memories of thousands 
of men and things that are now occupying a 
large share of ])nblic notice shall have passed 
into oblivion. The sparks of intelligence 
Avhich ai'c scattered among ns will kindle a 
fire, which, if rightly consecrated, will give 
stal)ility to the altars of I'eligion and liberty, 
and shed a bi'iu-hter halo ai'ound our national 



164 

character than all the aehieveinents of armies 
oi' of navies. To these enlightened and noble 
efforts, every ])atriot should Ind God s])eed, 
and, in the sphere in which he moves, second 
the elforts to induce the rising hopes of our 
couuti-y to |)rei)are themselves foi- the varied 
duties that their country mav require them to 
dischara'e. 



THE DOCTOR'S PARENTS 



The writer, having* iiegleeted to give a short 
aeeouiit of Jeremiali MeGregor, father of Dr. 
John McGregor, in its ])ropei" place will give 
it here. 

In 1780, one hnndred and six years ago, the 
lather of Di\ John McGregor was l)orn. 

In 1800, he with fonrteen othei's, was 
employed by government, to snrvey and lay 
ont cei'tain townships in the state of ~New 
York. He was in tlie government em])loy 
two years. At that time, fever and agne was 
so prevalent in that section, that very few 
conhl remain more than a short time. A 
large ])0]'tion of the state of ^ew York was a 
wilderness, inhabited only by Indians. The 
Mohawks, the Tonawandas, and tlie Oneidas, 



166 

roamed tlirouuli the interioi*. I'here were no 
canals or i-aili-oads then. Tlie nsnal mode of 
emit>-rati()n was to earr}" tlie family and house- 
hold i>"oods in eanvas-eovei'ed wa<;"ons, drawn 
by oxen. The toilsome jonrnev was made 
along- roii«>h roads, throngli dark ibrests, and 
aei'oss rapid streams. Xot a sing-le state had 
been formed out of the extensive region called 
the North-AVest Territory, lying between the 
Alleghany and the liocky mountains. It was 
at one time claimed by the French, under the 
name of Louisiana. A large portion of this 
rich counti'y was the wide huuting ground of 
the Indians. The celebrated Tecumseh was 
the mighty chie^f and warrioi' farther west. 

A man h\ the name of Elliot w^as the head 
engineer; and many of his lines and ])lats are 
referred to at this distant day. They suiweyed 
and platted the Holland Purchase, or what is 
better known as Batayia, and another township 
w^est of Saratoga. 

After returning home, he assisted his father 
in farmino-, and in the hotel business, until his 
father gaye uj) the business, when he continued 
in the same line of business for oyer sixty lono* 



PAREXTft. 167 

veai's. 

In 1812, tlie war with England threw the 
eonntry into excitement, and imsettled, to 
some extent, its bnsiness. At that time, he 
was eohniel of the ninth regiment of miHtia. 
The following was his commission from Gov. 
Jones. 



By his excellency, William Jones, Esq., Governor, Captain- 
General, and romniander-in-Chief, of the State of Rhode Island 
and rro\i(lence Plantations. 

To Jkrk.miah McCiKKGOK, Esq.: Greetinii-. 

Yon, the said Jeremiah 
McGregor, havinii" been elected l\v the General Assembly, at the 
session on the Hrst Wednesday of May instant, to the Office 
of Colonel of the ninth Regiment of Militia in the State afore- 
said, are hereby, in the Name of the State of Rhode Island and 
Trovidence Plantations, authorized, empowered and commis- 
sioned, to exercise the OHice of Colonel of the Reiiiment afore- 
said, and to command and conduct the same, or any part thereof. 
And in case of an Invasion, or Assault of a common Enemy, to 
infest or disturb this State, you are to alarm and gatlier together 
said Regiment under your Command, or such Part lliereof as 
you shill deem sufficient; and therewith, to the utmost of your 
Skill and Ability, you are to resist, expel and destroy them, in 
order to preserve tlie Interest of the good Citizens of this State. 
You are also to follow such Instructions and Orders as shall, 
from Time to Time. l)e given forth, either by the General 
Assen)1)ly. the (iovernor and General Council, or otlier your 
Superioi- Oilicers. .Vud for your ><o (U)iiig. this Commission sjiall 



1()8 THE DOC'TOPv's 

he your snllif'icul Warrant and Discliaruc. 

Given under iny Hand, and the Seal of the State, this Elev- 
enth Day of May, in the Year of onr Lord, (^ne Thousand Eiii-ht 
Hundred and Twelve, and in the Thirty-Sixth Year of Indepen- 
dence. 

By his Kxeelleney's Connnaiid. 

William Jones. 
Sainitel Edi)^', Seeretarv. 



The fbll()win<>- Se])tembei% lie was ordered 
to call out bis regiment, and wait for fnrtlier 
orders. He obeyed the order ])y calling liis 
regiment ont, on the ])bnn just east of a hotel 
located wherc^ tlu- Cyoventry Asylum now 
stands. At tliat time, it was expected that 
the ] egiment would be called to Newport, but 
on the second day orders cam(^ for the regi- 
ment to be dismissed with tlie undei'standing 
that they should hold themselves in readiness 
at a minute's warning; l)ut no fui'ther orders 
came. The war after a while iizzled out; but 
not until it had done much damage to oui* 
commerce, and disorganized many branches 
of om* business. For a long time, all of (mr 
merchandise was transported fi-om Boston to 
IS'ew Yoi'k, and vice versa, with ox teams. 
Our young men of to-day w^ould think it quite 



PARENTS. 1(59 

an undertaking to drive an ox team from Bos- 
ton to ^ew York and liaek; but at that time 
we had youn*>' men who could, and were will- 
ing to do it. I have no d(nibt that we have 
young men to-day, who, if it was necessary, 
would (h) it without murmuring, for the last 
war demonstrated, 1)eyond a doubt, that our 
young men were willing to sacritice as much 
as any young men of any nation, or at any 
])eriod. 

In 1881, the doctor's father took down the 
old sign which had swung before the old hotel 
for tifty long years; and when he raised it 
again it had been re])ainted, and so wonder- 
fully changed that many of the beholders were 
ast(mished. The i)ortrait of Washington had 
l)een changed for the ])icture of a young and 
noble looking horse, trampling beneath his 
feet an object which he seemed anxious to 
destroy. By his side stood a young and fear- 
less looking man, who seemed to be urging 
him on. Over his head waved a banner with 
the word ''Temperance" in gilt letters, and 
underneath was the proprietor's name, with 
the date 1881. 



170 TTTE DOrTOl^'s 

At this tiinc, the caiisc of tcnijx'i'aiicc was 
ill its iiiiancy; and it was not stran<>X' that 
many at that (hiy wvw surprised at seein<>" the 
old sign so niiK-h changed. Th(\v soon dis- 
eovered tliat the interior of the liotel was as 
iniieli elianged as the old sign. The shelves 
in the l)ai', on which nsnally stood decanters 
filled with all kinds of alcoholic liqnors, were 
j)erfectly ein])ty. Xo signs of alcoholic l)ever- 
age Avei'C to l)e seen. Many Avere discom- 
forted, and some showed their displeasure by 
tearing the sign down a niimher of times; bnt 
it arose as often as it fell. After a while the 
])eople became more reconciled, and the old 
sign was allowed to swing to and fro withont 
molestation. From 18;]1, the hotel was kept 
on strictly teiii])erance ])rinci])lc\s. I think 
that I am safe in saying that this was the first 
temperance sign ever raised in Rhode Island. 

In 1841, he joined the Christian I>a])tist 
Church, at Kice City; and ever after was a 
consistent member of that church. 

He was buried in the family cemetery on 
the old homestead, where his father and 
mother, his wife and two brothers, in dream- 



PAKEXTS. 171 

less slcH']). arc waitiii«: for tlio rosiirrootioii 
morn. 

As I said in the connnencement. Dr. John 
MeCri'eg'or's mother was the daughter of Major 
Jonathan Niehols; and I might justly say that 
the doctor owed much of what he was to his 
mother. Tliat pei'son never Hved in Coventiy, 
who I'ead more, or remem])ered more of what 
they read, than the doctor's motlicr. She 
always ls:e})t well posted on all mattei's con- 
cerning the welfare of our country. She 
seldom gave advice until she had thoroughly 
examined the mattei-, and her advice was 
always in the right direction. Hei" suiferings 
while the doctor was in prison wei'e intense; 
and when his life was sacrificed in Providence, 
hei* mind was almost dethroned. She loved 
hei' children as none but a mother could. She 
always endeavored to bend the twig in the 
right direction, foi' she believed that the Avay 
the twia* was bent, the tree would be inclined. 



THE 

McGregor homestead 



[From the Pawtiixet Valley Gleaner.] 



We wander all through the old mansion. 
W.e look at the old furniture which has been 
in the fainily over a c-entnry. We hear 
the old clock ticking, that has stood in one 
])lace eighty long years. We see Col. John 
McGregor's old regimentals which he wore in 
the Continental Army in 1770, and the old 
sword still hangs upon the wall, which he 
nnsheathed at the battle of Bunker Hill, and 
sheathed at Xew York when Washington dis- 
missed his ai'my. We see his old nuister roll 
dated October 11, 177(> to ISTov. 2r>, 178:^, with 
tlu^ names of thosc^ patriots who were under 
his command. We see orders from Washing- 



174 THE McClPtEGOK 

toil, Durkc'c, and tVoiii otlicr coiiiiiiaiKloi's. 
We see files of old pajjers which were ])i'iiited 
ill Rhode Island when Washington was pres- 
ident; the first (Jhionieles, tlie first Journal, 
the first American, and tlie first Patriot ever 
])rinted in Khode Island. We see aiito<>'i'a])hs 
of many noted men, such as (Tovernors 
William Jones, eJohn B. Francis, (lov. flack- 
son, John (Mark, All)ert C. (xreene, James 
F. Simmons, Joseph S. Tillino-jiast, John 
AYhi])])le, William Anthony, and a thousand 
others. We read on a ])aiie of <>-|ass in one of 
the windows a yeise inscril)ed l\y Gen. Lafay- 
ette in 182»"). We see an oi'<>-aii brfmght from 
foreign lands in 1708, the only one of the kind 
in the ITnited States. In the attic stands the 
old loom, the linen wheel, the hetdiel, and 
many of those things which wc^re very neces- 
sary one hundred years ago. 

This house was once a ceiitei' of ])usy inter- 
est, and is located twenty-two miles from 
Proyidence and twenty-three miles from ISlov- 
wich on the Providence and Norwich turn])ike. 
For over a century a hotel was kej^t here by 
the MeGreo-ors. The old si^n that swuiiji' 



HO:\rESTEAD. 175 

before the lioiise one hundred years ago to 
advei-tise the Imsiness there transacted, is in 
the house still. 

We (4iter the Masonic Lodge room which 
is in the west ])art of the house. Seventy 
yeai's ago the Planiilton Lodge Avas instituted 
in this i-ooni and was the first offspring of 
Manchester Lodge. As we enter this room 
silence is u])()n the Avails. The craftsmen are 
not here. The master's gavel is silent, and 
the square and compass stand out in bold 
relief as much as to say, "We eucom])ass the 
whole and square the end of time.'' We see 
on the Avail autogra])hs of some of the crafts- 
men. We see the old inkstand, long since 
dry, and here are still to be seen things that 
w]]] remind us of the ])ast. Peace to the name 
of the old Lodge I'oom. Silence is u])on thy 
walls, proud room, for a memorial. Such is the 
old Hamilton Lodge room, a magnificent relic. 

Col. John McCxregor came fi'om ])undee, 
Scotland. He brought to this c(mntry Ma- 
sonic seed and planted it at Anthony, R. T. It 
germinated and grew. The results attained 
are Avell known to the fraternitv. 



176 The mcgregok 

Ilo raised a company of volunteei's in the 
town of Plainfield, Conn., and on the sixth of 
Jnne, ITTili, they k'ft Phiiniiekl and niarehed 
for Boston. Many of tliat eom])anY ne^'el• 
retnrned. \\'lK'n the sun rose on that nienio- 
ral)U' Mtl) of June, ITTo, tliat httle l)and of 
})ati'iots was diligently at work fortifying 
Bunker Hill. Let us draw a vail over that 
hloody scene and leave to the imagination of 
the reader the sacrifice that was made that 
day. Let it suftice. 

When Warren went down, Freemasonry 
lost one of its most brilliant stars. The ring* 
of the fraternity seemed to l)e l)roken. The 
ci'aft generally rejoice in being known as a 
fraternity, the limits of which are like a ring 
that is without begiiming oi* end, being one 
continuous circle; such, of course, is Masonry, 
according to its teachings, and shoidd be in 
fact. It coidd, and ought to be, and if the 
brethren only took the ])ains to make it, it 
would be so. 

I have wandered from the old homestead. 
I will now go back. The i-eadtM' may ask Avhy 
I call it the old McCxiv^'or Homestead. I will 



HOMESTEAD. lii 

tell you. Five generations . of McGregors 
have lived here, Col. John McGregor, Jere- 
miah, son of Col. John, Dr. John, son of 
Jeremiah and grandson of Col. John, John 
the 3d, gi'eat-grandson, and Virgil Johnson, 
great-grandson of Jeremiah and great-great- 
grandson of Col. John McGregor. Jeremiah, 
father of Dr. John, lived here 95 years. Jere- 
miah S. McGregor still lives at the old 
homestead. What a consolation it must be to 
know that your parents, grandparents, great- 
grandparents and great-great-grandparents 
have lived in the same house, slept in the same 
rooms, walked the same paths, drank from the 
same well, read the same papers, and used the 
same furniture. 



And what is home and where, but with the loviniiV 
Happy thou art that so canst .«;azc on thine ! 

My spirit feels but in its weary roving, 

That with the dead, where'er they be, is mine. 

Ask where the earth's departed have their dwelling. 

Ask of the clouds, the stars, the trackless air; — 
I know it not, — yet trust a whisper, telling 

My lonely heart that love unchanged is there. 

Cosmopolite. 



REMINISCENCES 

OF 

ANCIENT PLAINFIELD 



[Copied From a Connecticut Paper.] 



Let 118 gx) back to 1774; at this time the 
Colonies wei-e in a turmoil from end to end, 
by i-eason of a threatened Coerc-ion Bill, a l)ill 
designed by Great Britain to put down the 
Colonies and their jnst claims of Fixity of 
Tenure for the people. The public excitement 
continued to increase. Associations were 
formed in many places throughout the Colo- 
nies, under the title of Sons of Liberty. Such 
an association was formed in Plainfield. 

Previous to said date a man frcmi Dundee, 
Scotland, by the name of John McGreg-or, 
located in said town. He soon made many 
acquaintanees in Plainfield, and erelong l)(^- 



180 KEMTXTSCEXCES OF 

came acquainted Avitli Israel Putnam, of Brook- 
lyn. McGregor was well posted in military 
discipline, having seen much service in Scot- 
land; and as Putnam had seen something of 
war, their heai'ts heat in union. McGregor 
was selected to discipline said association in 
the arts of war. 

On the 19th of April, 177^1, was shed at 
Lexington, the first hlood in the Pevolutionarv 
war. At this, the -Sons of Liherty communi- 
cated with each other hy signals. The heacon 
lights, located on many of the lofty hills, were 
strictly attended to. 

On the evening of June ()th, the heacon 
light on Shepard's Hill was seen streaming 
heavenward. It was the signal for the Sons 
of Liherty to assemhle at their headquartei's. 
Said headquarters were at Simeon Shepai-d's 
residence, which was located where the Plain- 
field almshouse now stands. 

On the following day thei'e was great excite- 
ment in Plainfield. They all knew that the 
association would soon have news from Bos- 
ton. Ahout two o'clock in the aftei-noon, a 
horseman was seen comina* at l^reakneck 



AN^CIE^'T PLAIXFIELD. 181 

speed, from toAvards Boston. Tlie assembly 
was spelll)ound as the messenger dashed iip 
to the headquarters. The man was as pale as 
death. He was eompletely exhansted, and 
was taken from liis horse and carried into the 
house. The pooi- horse trembled and reeled, 
and befoi'e the dis])ateh eonid ])e nnlashed from 
the saddle, he fell to the ground. He had 
carried his last message. The dis])ateh was 
directed to John McGregor. The following 
is a copy. 

Boston, June (Itli, 1775. 
Captain John McGREcam : Dear Sir, — Forward your men to 
Boston as soon as possible. They will be needed soon. 

Your friend, 

Israel Putnam. 

The following night was a busy and sleep- 
less one for the men and women in Plainfield, 
for the com]}any was to commence its march 
for Boston at seven o'clock the next morning. 
At the apijointed time, those Sons of Liberty 
formed themselves into line, and waited for the 
word, "Foi'ward!" Swift as the summons 
came, they left the ])low mid-furroAV, standing 
still, the half ground corn-grist in the mill, th(> 



182 REMT^sTISCEKOKS OF 

spade in tlio eartli, the ax in cleft. They went 
whei-e dut}' seemed to call. They only knew 
they eonld hut die. They had not long to wait 
for the woi'd, ''Forward,'' for erelong McGregor 
came to the front, unsheathed the sword which 
had been presented to him ])y the association, 
and, in a clear voice, said, ''Sons of Liberty! 
all of you who are willing to share with me the 
dangers and suiferings of war, foi* your coun- 
try's sake. Forward Mai'ch !'' Xot one faltered. 

The reader can imagine the feelings of the 
friends of these young men, as they left Plain- 
field, and wound their way over the hills and 
through the valleys, until they reached Boston. 

On the 9th, this little band of patriots filed 
into one of the redoubts near Boston. Putnam 
was there ready to i-eceive them. On the 17th, 
they took an active part in the battle of Bun- 
ker Hill. Some of these men served until 
Washington disbanded his ai*my at ^ew 
York. Many of them never returned to 
Plainfield. We will draw a vail over Valley 
Forge, Trenton, Morristown, White Plains, 
and many other places, where their sufterings 
can never be fully described. 



ANCIEXT PLATXFIELD. 183 

The old sword which John McGregor had, 
pi-eseiited to liim by said association, and which 
he nsed all throngh the war, is now in posses- 
sion of the writer. Also, his old mnster roll 
containing the names of the men in his com- 
pany. His company was in Col. John Durkee's 
regiment. For the benefit of the posterity of 
those patriots, I will transci-ibe a part of that 
old nuistei" roll. Si)ace will not allow me to 
copy the whole roll, therefore the reader mnst 
be content with a part. The following are 
some of the names fonnd on said roll : 

James M. Daniels, John Sanders, Clear 
Haymont, Joshna Stoddard, Henry Shaw, 
Solomon Haymont, Samnel Stafford, Abel 
Franklin, Josiah Hogers, Philemon Love, Asa^ 
Law, Oliver Hogei-s, John Williams, Lot 
Chace, Renben Br3^ant, C^esai- Steward, Wil- 
liam Glenn, Thei-ea Dnrkee, Ames Ben- 
nett, Pomp Haymont, Peter Horry, Jedediah 
Brown, James Dike, John Almey. 

The ofrave of Pntnam shonld Ix^ immortal- 
ized; men die, bnt their works I'emaiii, theii' 
example snrvives. 

To-day, this rei)ublic holds in secnre gras]). 



184 

eveiy element of power, every eonditioii of 
existence. Fii-m and strong-, she extends to 
other nations the hand of friendship. We 
have erected n])on our shores a statue of Lib- 
erty ilhiminating' the workl. We cannot be 
deaf, we must not he bhnd, to her munificence. 
The centennial anniversary draws on apace. 
The national spii'it is revived. The national 
wealth, and i^ower, and i)ride, are at their 
zenith. 

When the July sun shall hereafter rise in 
its perennial course, may its morning rays, as 
they lift from the Atlantic waves, gild the 
spotless shaft which shall stand for countless 
ages, the witness of a nation's gratitude; and 
.as they fall upon each patriot's grave, and 
finally sink in effulgence in the deep bosom of 
the Pacific ocean, may we rememl^er, and our 
children and children's children after us 
remember, the obligations we owe those patri- 
ots for our establishment and security in this 
vast heritage. 



SKETCH 

Dr. p. K. HUTCHINSON 



The subject of this sketeli. Dr. P. K. 
Hutchinson, was born on the 29th of August, 
1817, in the town of PLainfiekl, in the state of 
Connecticut. The early youth of Dr. Hutchin- 
son was spent in the l)eautiful village of Plain- 
field, and almost within the shadows of that 
ancient academy, in which so many noted men, 
fifty yeai's ago, acquired their education, He 
entered that academy very early in life and 
continued until he graduated. Being strongly 
inclined to study, he sought every opportunity 
for im])roving his mind, and a profession was 
the ofreat end at Avhich he aimed. After leav- 
in<>' the old academy at Plainfield, he entered 



18G SKETCH OF 

AmluTst Colle^'c, where lie remained until he 
gradnated with the highest honors. Aftei' he 
left the eolleg'e, he imniediately entered the 
office of Dr. Coggeshall, an eminent ])hysieian, 
then residing in Plainfield, and eonnneneed 
the study of medicine. He suhsequently grad- 
uated at the Medical Univei'sity at Kew 
Haven. 

In 1847, he opened an otHce and located him- 
self in Coventry, Khode Island, taking the 
place vacated by Dr. John McGregor, who 
had moved to I^henix. For twenty years he 
remained at the old McGregor homestead. In 
1850, he married Miss Jane McGregor, daugh- 
ter of Jeremiah McGregoi' and sistei' to Di*. 
John McGregor. 

He soon aecpiired a reputation as a ])hysician 
of the highest order. His practice at this time 
was very extensive, and his success as physi- 
cian was ])ey(md what he had evei' hoped. He 
had. gained the confidence of the ])eo])le, and 
his reputation was fully established. He had 
previously joined the Christian Baptist C/hurch, 
at Kice City, and was a vei'v active member. 
He took a <>'reat interest in the connnon school 



Dr. p. k. hutchtxson. 187 

system, and did very much toward the further- 
ance of the cause. He was always ready and 
willing to assist in any work which would 
improve the morals of the people, or raise them 
to a more exalted position. He was genei-ous 
to an extreme. He was just as ready and will- 
ing to doctor the poor as he was the rich. The 
beggar never Avent from his house empty- 
handed. He was what you might call a Avhole- 
souled man. 

Subsequently, he purchased a farm at Rice 
City, and moved thither. He was elected to 
many offices in the town and state. For a 
long time he was one of the town's School 
Committee, and for two years represented 
Coventry in the State Legislature. 

In 1862, he was appointed assistant surgeon 
of the twelfth Rhode Island regiment, com- 
manded by Col. George H. Brown. At the 
battle of Fredericksburg, he, with other doc- 
tors, was in one of the churches occupied as 
a hospital. Soon after this battle, he was 
taken with chronic diarrhoea, and was obliged 
to resign his office and return home. 

He devoted much of his time to extending 



188 SKETCH OF 

a gracious hospitality to his friends. But the 
clay was fast approaching when his earthly 
lahors were to cease. It was not long before 
his illness had rapidly increased, and his con- 
dition was such that physicia^is entertained no 
hope of his recovery. He also was sensible 
that his last days Avere very near. With the 
most perfect calmness, he conversed with his 
family and friends, and gave directions con- 
cerning his funeral, being desirous that his last 
resting-place on earth should be in the fam- 
ily cemetery, on the old McGregor homestead. 
Gradually, he was sinking; and on October 
31st, he inquii-ed the day of the month. Being 
told that it was the 31st of October, he told 
his friends that he might live till another day, 
and expressed an earnest wish that he might. 
His prayer was heard. The dawn of another 
day broke upon his eyes, and then they were 
closed forevei". And what a noble consumma- 
tion of a noble life ! To die where his name, 
by his own acts, stood high on the record of 
fame, was glorious; to die amid the people Avho 
looked up to him as the author under God of 
their greatest blessings, was all that was 



DR. p. K. HUTCHIXSON. 189 

wanted to fill up the record of his life. Fifty- 
five summers had rolled over his head. He 
had passed the meridian of his usefulness, and 
his departure was similar to a beautiful sunset. 
His spirit was freed from the bondage of earth, 
as it left the scenes of his earthly honors. 

In him, the elements of self control were 
strong. Possessing great fortitude, as well as 
])ersonal courage, his command of temper was 
such that his friends seldom saw him in a pas- 
sion. He was also possessed of simplicity of 
manner, although coupled with easy dignity. 
He was fluent and eloquent in conversation, 
and remarkably precise and correct in his 
language. As a classical scholar, his writings 
were after the best models of antiquity, and 
he never endeavored to couAdnce by the mere 
force of argument. So nearly the whole of 
Dr. Hutchinson's life was passed before the 
public, that his actions speak his character 
better than words can express them, and what- 
ever his faults may have been, if he had them, 
his name will be cherished, and he will be held 
in grateful memory, as one of our most eminent 
physicians. 



190 

He died at his home, in Rice City, JS^ovember 
1st, 1872, aged 55 years. At his death, the 
Rice City Church lost a worthy member, and 
the community a skillful physician. Rev. Mr. 
Westgate, from Phenix, preached a very 
instructive and interesting discourse upon the 
occasion, taking for his text, the 7th and 8th 
verses found in the fourth chapter of the sec- 
ond Epistle of Paul, the Apostle, to Timothy, 
'^I have fought a good fight, I have finished 
my course, I have kept the faith : Henceforth 
there is laid up for me a crown of righteous- 
ness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, 
shall give me at that day: and not to me 
only, but unto all them also that love his 
appearing." 

A massive granite monument denotes the 
place where the mortal part of Dr. P. K. 
Hutchinson is peacefully resting. There is 
nothing certain in this life but death. 

Leaves have their time to fall, 
And flowers to wither at the North wind's breath, 

And stars to set — but all, 
Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death! 



CONCLUSION. 



For the benefit of our posterity, and to aid 
the historians who, in the future, will doul)tless 
endeavor to make their histories of this nation 
as complete as possible, we should- exert our- 
selves in gleaning and preserving everything 
which will be interesting and useful to the suc- 
ceeding generation. Every nation has a his- 
tory; and the completeness depends upon how 
much the historian can find preserved to form 
said history. 

Little drops of water, 

Little grains of sand, 
Make the mighty ocean, 

And the beauteous laud. 

Every man has two histories, a public and 
a private one. The one becomes faii'ly the 
property of the })ul)lic, by virtue of his having 



192 CONCLUSION. 

been connected with events in which everyone 
has a share of interest ; bnt the other belongs 
exchisively to himself, his family, and his inti- 
mate friends. Our most lofty mountains are 
formed and composed of small particles of 
quartz, feldspar, mica, different kinds of ore, 
and man}' other things too numerous to men- 
tion, which it takes to make those mighty 
elevations. The Amazon river, the largest, 
but not the longest, river in the world, is 
formed and made complete by the contribution 
of hundreds of other smaller rivers ; and those 
rivers are formed by thousands of little brooks, 
conti*i]:>Uting their Avaters; and those little 
brooks are formed by thousands and thousands 
of tiny spi'ings of water, located in different 
phices on the east side of the Andes Mountains, 
hundreds of miles apart. So it is with history. 
It is made complete by the small particles 
which the historian gleans, and which he finds 
scattered in different localities. To make his- 
tory reliable, scenes should be described by 
those who witnessed them, places should be 
described by those who have seen them, the 
acts of men should be described by those who 



COKCLLTSION. 193 

know the facts, the sayings of men should be 
repeated by those who heard those sayings, 
and a record should be made of the testimony 
of those witnesses. It is not so very strange 
that historians disagree in their accounts of 
scenes which they describe, from the fact that 
witnesses located in different positions, view 
scenes in a different light. There is no excuse 
for historians disagreeing on dates, names, and 
the genei'al facts. Mistakes will occur with 
the most correct writers, and it proves that 
man is imperfect in many ways. It is not given 
to man to achieve perfection; else this world 
would not be a state of discipline. 

Why is it that we are so very particular 
about having all of our deeds, wills, contracts, 
and many of our business transactions, record- 
ed, and those records placed in some secure 
depository, for preservation. The whole object 
is this; our memory being fallible, if we make 
a record of our acts and doings, and those 
records are preserved, we can refer to those 
records and ascertain the facts, and the suc- 
ceeding generation may have the benefit of 
those records, after we are gone fi-om eai-th. 



194 COXCLITSIOX. 

History is nothing more nor less than the rec- 
ord of the j^ast. Men die, bnt their record 
remains, their example snrvives. When I look 
back over the period of fifty years, crowded 
with great events, and which has witnessed the 
convnlsion of the nation, the reorganization 
and reconstruction of our political system, — 
when in my mind's eye I people this country 
with those whose forms have been familiar to 
me, whose names, many of them historical 
names, are now carved on granite or marble 
that covers their dust, I am filled with a sad- 
ness inexpi-essible, yet full of consolation; 
for, musing on the transitory nature of all 
sublunary things, I come to perceive that 
their instability is not in their essence, but in 
the forms which they assume, and in the agen- 
cies that operate upon them ; and when I recall 
those whom I have seen fall around me, and 
whom I thought necessary to the success, 
almost to the preservation, of great principles, 
I recall also those whom I have seen step into 
the vacant places, put on the armor which 
they wore, lift the weapons which they 
wielded, and march on to the consummation 



co:nclusion. 195 

of the work which they inaugurated. And 
thus I am tilled with reverent wonder at the 
beneficent ordering of nature, and inspired 
with a loftier faith in that Almighty Power 
without whose guidance and direction all 
human effort is vain, and with whose blessing 
the humblest instruments that He selects are 
equal to the mightiest work that He designs. 
When we contemplate the close of life, the 
tei-mination of man's designs and hopes, the 
silence that now reigns among those who a 
little while ago were so busy or so gay, who 
can avoid being touched with sensations at 
once awful and tender? What heart but then 
warms with the glow of humanity? In whose 
eye does not the tear gather, on revolving the 
fate of passing and short-lived man? Of all 
the sorrows which we are here doomed to 
endure, none is so bitter as that occsioned by 
the fatal stroke which separates us, in appear- 
ance, forever, from those to whom either nature 
or friendship had intimately joined our hearts. 
Memory from time to time renews the anguish, 
opens the Avound which seemed once to have 
been closed, and, by i-ecalling joys that are 



196 CON^CLUSIOK^. 

past and gone, tonches every spring of painfnl 
sensibility. In these agonizing moments, how 
relieving the thought that the separation is 
only temporary, not eternal; that there is a 
time to come of reunion with those with whom 
our happiest days were spent, whose joys and 
sorrows once were ours, whose piety and virtue 
cheered and encoiuaged us, and from whom, 
after we shall have landed on the ])eaceful 
shore where they dwell, no revolutions of 
nature shall ever be able to part us moi-e. Such 
is the society of the blessed above. Of such 
is the multitude composed which stands before 
the throne. 



THE END. 



